The Blackthorn
by Adamanta Altiere
Summary: The last thing Legolas saw was an ugly, shapeless, giant shadow… And then the darkness fell upon him and remained so...COMPLETE. :o)
1. No light for him

_Disclaimer_: The fact, that I don't own any of the characters of "Lord of the Rings" or "Silmarillion" doesn't mean, that I don't want to own some of them.

However, Rexia, Ralon and others, who do not belong to Tolkien, are the children of my not-so-right mind.

_Author's note: _

**First:** I began to write this story somewhere in August, but brought myself to publish it not so long ago. Be indulgent, don't take it close to heart, if you don't like it.

**Second:** English is not my native language, so if there are any mistakes or inexactitudes – feel free to tell me, I'd really appreciate that. In the light of the aforesaid, would anybody be so kind to become my beta-reader? Thanks in advance. :o))

**Third:** The name of the girl is supposed to be read according to the rules of Latin – letter by letter. It's Rexia 'reksia

Enjoy it, and review it, if you have time.

Sincerely, Adamanta.

**P.S.** Just in case – no pointed ears. But if you prefer to think of elves this way – be my guest.

Thanks once more. :o)))

_**Chapter 1.  
No light for him. **_

He heard the door open and close somewhere downstairs. Yes, he heard it, but he didn't make a move to meet his guests, though he had been expecting them for several hours. What was the difference, if he could only hear them? And even if he went down to the hall, he wouldn't be able to see their faces. He wouldn't be able to see anything. He was blind. He, Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood.

It happened five years ago, when he was patrolling the frontier of his new land. Though it could hardly be called "patrolling". Nobody had ever tried to enter his home without asking the elves to let him in. So Legolas was aimlessly roaming around the edge of a silent lake, enjoying the rustle of dark-emerald leaves, whispering of the wind and twinkling of blue-eyed stars. Suddenly, the faint noise made him turn around. Nothing… There was nothing, but now he could perceive, that the world around him had changed. Malice was streaming through the air, malice and evil…

The elf bent his bow and at the same moment it seemed that the night itself left its place in the sky, gliding to him quicker than he could think of something to do. The last thing Legolas saw was an ugly, shapeless, giant shadow… And then the darkness fell upon him and remained so.

Five years of the darkness.

Five years of suffering.

Five years of despair.

A blind elf. A wingless eagle.

He wasn't able either to see the sun or to climb trees anymore. His loyal bow appeared to be just a useless toy in his fingers. And he left the elves to live in a hateful house, deprived of everything he loved, doomed to drag out such poor life forever.

The voices downstairs became clearer, and Legolas began to make out some phrases of what seemed an argument.

"I promised him you would try!" a desperate whisper belonged to one of his mortal friends, a mere boy of something about twenty. To elf's measure, just a nursling, but his company didn't irritate Legolas. Under the given circumstances he preferred it to the company of his own congeners.

"But how could you promise it without asking me? It's not that I don't want to help, but to heal an elf! Isn't it beyond my powers, brother?"

"I believe in you."

"Thank you very much!" came a bitter reply, "But I don't. I'm not a medicine you can give to anyone, who asks. I'm your sister, to cry out loud! And you just keep using me to uphold your reputation of a faithful friend."

They stood just behind the door. He could hear somebody's fingers touch its wooden surface.

"Shh-h-h! He might be blind, but he is not deaf... He might get offended."

The door opened, and Legolas turned his face towards it, but almost at the same moment remembered that it was a useless motion.

"Hello, Ralon," said he, trying to hide his bitter disappointment, "Have you done me an honour to bring someone with you?"

"Well, I have brought someone… It's Rexia, my sister. She is a Healer, and a very good one, I should say. So, if you only allow, she can help with …with your eyes."

Legolas suppressed a smile, threatening to curve his lips. He didn't want to offend the boy and felt that he would have to agree, though it seemed pointless. Even his father, who was considered to be the best, when it came about healing, had to give up after several fruitless attempts to restore his lost vision. Nobody could even discover the real reason of his blindness.

"Why not?" answered he after some moments of silence, "But, may be, Lady Rexia finds it too difficult? I am not the one to be burdensome."

"I told you, he could hear!" whispered Ralon fiercely, forgetting that Legolas had much better ears than anyone of the human race.

"Of course, he heard it. And he does, now," snapped a girl's voice acidly, "Don't, please, make a fool of yourself. And yes, I do find it too difficult," now she was speaking to the Prince of Mirkwood, "but I have never refused to help when I was asked."

He did not like her voice. It had nothing of what elves appreciated in voices – neither tunefulness, nor sonority. It was annoyingly toneless and elusive, a bit too deep to his keen ear. He also discerned a slight hoarseness, the same, that spoiled the voice of her brother.

"I think I must thank you," responded Legolas at last.

"I've done nothing to thank me for. Wait until I finish the cure, and then begin to feel grateful."

Something in her answer made the elf raise his brows in puzzlement. He ignored the fact, that raised brows above obviously blind eyes may seem ridiculous.

"By saying that you imply that it will take a long time to heal me?" he inquired, his voice hiding a hint of sarcasm.

"The things, done easily, are often hard to correct. Don't you agree?"

An awkward silence hung in the air. At last Ralon mumbled something that should have implicated a wish to leave and, judging by his hurried steps, almost flew out of the house. Legolas was left alone with his new acquaintance. She was sitting so silently, that he even began to doubt in her presence.

"How did it happen?" her voice cut in his reveries, cruelly ruining them.

"I beg the pardon?"

"How did you become blind?"

"I don't see, how it deals with your intention to heal me," answered he dryly. It was odd, but for the first time in five years somebody called things by their right names. She was the first to call him what he was. And it infuriated him to no end.

She plunged into silence once again, and then suddenly he felt her near him, her palm on his face…

"If you chose being so stubborn, I'll find it out myself," she snapped, and the world around him collapsed.

There was the lake and the stars, and the feeling of someone's presence… There was evil and fear… There was the huge shadow…

"No!"

Everything stopped as abruptly as it had come to him. Legolas was breathing heavily, his heart seemed eager to jump out of his chest. For several moments he was able to see again, but those moments reminded a nightmare. He jerked away from the cool palm, still resting on his forehead.

"Never," the elf forced through the pain, which throbbed in his whole body, "never do that again."

"I nave no need to," her breathing was uneven, too, "I've learnt everything I wanted."

He heard her rise to her feet and stroll towards the door.

"Are you leaving?" Legolas refused to believe his ears. Her unexpected desire to go away confused him.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Good bye and forgive me for having forced you into enduring it all once more."  
She opened the door, but did not come out. All of a sudden she spoke again.

"Don't be so hopeless, Prince Legolas. One day you will be the King of elves. I promise you…"


	2. Healing Hatred Hope

**_Disclaimer_:** Don't own anything. Hail the mighty Tolkien.

_Author's note: _And the special "thank you" goes to – **Deana!** (pam-pam-pa-pam!) Your review was the first one I ever got, and it means much for me that it was positive. I hope I won't disappoint you. I was touched by your reaction, really. :o) Thanks.

So, the next chapter is ready.

Help yourself. ;o) Review. Please?

_**Chapter 2.**_

**Healing…Hatred…Hope… **

She was a person many preferred to avoid, and she liked it that way. Indeed, the talent which was brought into the world with her was supposed to help people… To bestow them new hope…But it happened so that she did not share the opinion that people must be helped. Not by her. Not every minute of her life. Since her early childhood everybody around Rexia had been trying to persuade her that she was not the one to belong to herself. How could she be so selfish? How could she think about her own life, when she had a chance to save the lives of other people? She had barely remembered the first time she healed someone. She was six and went to the river with Ralon. They were having so much fun, diving and splashing and laughing… And then Ralon made another dive and didn't emerge from the water. She was screaming so loud that some adults, passing by the river, heard it and managed to help. But when Ralon was found, it appeared that he was not breathing. She recalled how a sudden impulse made her kneel before him, put her hand on his heart… And then her own lungs began to ache, as if being pierced with many needles. She started to cough and gasp for some air just the moment Ralon opened his eyes. Soon she lost consciousness.

Since that day her joyful life found its end. People came in hundreds just to see her. They brought sick relatives and friends. They didn't give her a minute of rest. With each of them her power grew – the faints stopped, it took not too much time to see what ailed a patient and heal him or her… But with each of them grew another thing – her hatred towards her talent and those who were using her. They had no pity for her – and she ceased pitying them. She accepted their gratitude with a scowl, because it couldn't pay back for a chain of painfully sleepless nights, for headaches and, what was the most awful – for the feeling of being deprived of her life, of being enslaved.

"Rexia! Come down, eat something!"

"I don't want to," she muttered under her breath.

"Rexia! Rexia?"

Rexia snorted… When will he stop pestering her?

"I am not hungry! Leave me alone, if you please!"

A dark-haired head appeared in a doorway.

"But why, sister?" Ralon's face could move to pity a stone, "Are you well? Let's have a breakfast here! I can bring something tasty…"

"Ralon, darling… Just leave… I need to concentrate."

Ralon, Ralon… Sometimes she wondered why she kept behaving like that towards him… He has never even fallen ill since the unlucky dive. Though may be it was due to his habit of befriending elves. She had nothing against them, but the admiration they aroused in her brother was beyond all limits.

The elves came back seven years ago and claimed their rights on the land, which had previously belonged to their people. They actually met no objections from the race of men, except for one – the elves were asked to put up with the fact that people would live closer to them, than they had used to. Why did they decide to come back at all – was a complete mystery. They never told.

Rexia and her family lived in a small town quite near … Mirkwood? Yes, it seemed to have that name. When the elves arrived, she was thirteen – a clumsy adolescent with sharp elbows and knees, covered with bruises. She stood in a big crowd, listening to cheers and shouts and watching a long string of stately horses flowing along the road. The horsemen - golden-haired, slender, sparkling with celestial beauty – made her hold her breath in admiration. At the head of the procession was riding a majestic elf; she guessed it was King Thranduil, mentioned in so many stories Rexia heard from her grandfather. She didn't know why, but the King disappointed her – there was something about his cold blue eyes under the perfectly-cut lines of eyebrows, or about the haughty curve of his lips, that made her think of the excessive pride, defensible, but overpowering.

A rapturous murmur swept over the crowd, when the King was followed by another horseman - a younger one. He looked very much like Tranduil, though his face was lit up by a mild smile and didn't seem so aloof. People recognized him as Prince Legolas, a legendary hero of the War of the Rings, and the cheers doubled. Girls were showering him with flowers… By the time his horse approached the place, where Rexia was standing, people behind her had grown so impatient that she was simply shoved out of the crowd. She lost her balance and tumbled down right under the hooves of a gracious animal.

The feeling of embarrassment and anger filled her eyes with scalding tears. Rexia tried to get up, licking the lips, which were rapidly swelling up and bleeding. Suddenly she felt a strong arm around her waist. One jerk – and she was on her feet again.

"Be careful, my little lady," said Legolas, bending forward to her and wiping away her tears, "or at least try to fall near somebody, who will catch you."

Rexia shook her head, turning back to reality. Those years passed, and the image of the elven prince faded. But when Ralon asked her to heal Legolas, it flashed in her mind's eye once more – shining hair, streaming in the wind, a tender touch of his hand and a ghost of a smile in the eyes, glimmering with the purest azure.

What she saw yesterday ruthlessly crashed this image. The only thing that could still remind of the Legolas she had known once were the same sky-blue eyes, yet they were not lambent anymore. And all the rest was frightening.

The golden shimmer of his hair died out. His face became dead-pale and weary. Ten eerie scars stretched from his forehead to the chin. And he grew different… Sharp and embittered.

She had already regretted having promised him her help. It was too impulsive of her, considering the vision she had dragged out of his memory. No slightest desire she had to deal with the powers so strong, that they were beyond the control of the elves. The balrog take it! And Ralon! And Prince Legolas for company!

Rexia angrily threw fragrant tufts of dry herbs into her bag, snapped it shut and stormed out of the house. In half an hour she had to be at her first patient's and there were six more for today, including a certain elf. A new day has come…

* * *

Legolas woke up earlier than usual, shaking violently, dripping with cold sweat. He couldn't remember his dreams, but one thing he knew for sure – they had been somber ones.

He got up and moved to the door, his hand in front of him to prevent running against some obstacle.

Having left the room, Legolas searched for a jug of water and a wash-basin. A splash of chilly liquid cheered him up a bit; he scooped some more, dipped his face into the small lake in his palms and gave a start…

It could not be so… It was impossible…

Legolas feverishly touched his forehead, his cheeks, then his chin. He refused to believe it - the skin under his fingers was smooth. The scars were gone…

They appeared that fateful night, together with blindness. At first everyone thought, they were the marks left by a survived monster, but then it became clear, that Legolas had scratched himself. He was not sure - he did not remember it.

But now there were no scars.

For several minutes Legolas stood silently, not noticing the water running down his face on the chest. Then he smiled – slowly, awkwardly, as if he had forgot how to do it.

Now he would wait for Rexia as eagerly as he was waiting for her to leave him alone yesterday. She wasn't just a mortal healer anymore. She was his _HOPE._


	3. Not me

_Disclaimer_: It is "too dear for my possession", (as well as Shakespeare's lines) so – don't own it.

_Author's note: _Thanks everyone who reviewed.

**Deane:** You keep making my day. Or rather my days. :o) It's awfully nice of you. And don't be so worried – do you really think I shall allow Legolas continue suffering? Though… :o) It would be very much like me.

**Inwe Tasartir:** Eru, I'm beginning to love myself, let alone my writing. :o) Thank you. Your review made me feel inspired.

**Irael: **I was always fond of constructive criticism. We are grown-ups, aren't we:o) And – mea culpa – I have already mentioned that English is not my native language. And in my native language commas are placed just the way I did it. I put them quite subconsciously. I will certainly try to watch myself. Thank you for pointing it out and for your estimation, too. :o)

**Blackrosemystic: **Yes, madam. :о) Or mademoiselle. And - thanks.

**Chapter 3. **

**Not I. **

She lost control. It had never happened before. She lost control and cured his scars, though she hadn't intended to. A fine state on affairs, indeed…

Something was wrong, and Legolas felt it. Yesterday Rexia produced quite a different impression on him. He expected harsh words, snorts, importunate questions, but nothing like that came. She just entered, asked him about some water and then, judging by the sounds and smells, began brewing something to cram him with.

At last the elf grew tired of silence. If that girl was reluctant to speak, he would converse with the empty air. One thing is to be bored to death by the loneliness, when there is no one by your side. And quite another thing is when your opponent withdraws into herself as if you do not exist. He still had his self-esteem, didn't he?

"Thank you."

There was a faint noise on his left, and he turned his head in that direction.

"For what?" her voice was shrill. Legolas winced – the sound turned out to be so unpleasant, that he almost repented having provoked her to produce it.

"I've noticed the absence of scars," answered he, for some reason feeling that the tone he had chosen was stupid.

"It does credit to your observation."

The phrase held no jeer, the way, it was said in, just did not allow to treat it as a retort, notwithstanding the words which made it up.

"Give me your hand."

He obeyed, and Rexia handed him a hot cup.

"Drink it up. Preferably in one gulp," advised she.

Legolas took a sip, and the warmth of the beverage slid down his throat. It had no taste, not even the lightest flavour, still he couldn't get rid of the sensation that he had already drunk something of the kind. His head grew heavy. In spite of the darkness surrounding him, the elf clearly understood that the world around him was spinning.

"What was that?" inquired Legolas with a fair amount of curiosity. His tongue moved lazily, slurring the words.

"This blindness was provoked by a curse. The curse is not realized by your mind, it exists in a body quite separately, and your reason gives it a perfect disguise, shifting your attention to the consequence, and not the cause. By making your mind slumber I can try to remove the curse and keep you in your senses."

However hard he attempted to suppress laughter, he didn't succeed in it – the potion obviously told upon his restraint.

"Forgive me, milady," he was still struggling with giggles, "you sound so serious. But I'm afraid, you are mistaken – if there were any curse, my father would have known it by now."

"You know, Prince of Mirkwood, we, people, have already accepted one thing – there is no man without fault," Rexia deadpanned, taking the cup away from him. "May be you, elves, in your endless wisdom should resign yourselves to the same, concerning your race?"

It was strangely uneasy to hear her calm, reserved tone. Legolas believed she should have been in rage, he attempted to break her self-possession, but the more he pushed, the more she quieted down, as if the manifestations of his imperfection pleased her. He could not see her face to know it for sure. He was only able to feel his way through the conversation, as he had been forced to feel his way through life for these five years. What a humiliating state for an elf – to be doubly blind!

"What's the matter with you?" came a sudden question, "you've grown dark."

"Does it really bother you?" he asked bitterly and turned away from her voice.

"Not too much to satisfy you, but too much for my usual self, Prince."

He had no time to contemplate over this statement, because it was followed by a question.

"May I touch you?"

"Touch me?" Legolas was taken aback, "What for?"

Rexia muttered something under her breath, harsh sounds clearly stating her annoyance.

"I am not going to enlighten you as to my purposes. Still, you did not seem very happy with my touching you last time. So I ask your permission to do that again."

Musing at how she would act if he refused, Legolas inquired:

"Will my answer change something?"

"No," she confessed calmly, "I just wanted to be polite."

"Not that you've succeeded," retorted the elf, resenting her careless attitude towards him.

She gave a vexing laughter.

"Not that I care."

A slight ruffling of material indicated that Rexia moved closer to him, yet he was surprised, when her palms lay on his face once again. She stood behind him, so that her fingertips were almost on his chin. Her voice dropped to whisper, and a single word reached his ears. "_Relax…"_

And Legolas did so. He would do so even if it was against his will. It was like losing consciousness, though he managed to remain aware of what was happening. Her hands were sliding up and down his face, barely touching, but still touching it. One moment her palms were icy-cold, then they grew hot, like the flame itself. There was pain, but he did not realize it as his own, there was weakness, but he wanted it to last. He winced each time her fingers came in contact with his burning skin, until all sensations concentrated on his eyes, and rested there, palpitating on the eye-lashes. And when this biting pulsation became unbearable, when he was eager to beg Rexia to stop, she took her hands away…

"Legolas?" whispered she questioningly, "Is it too much?"

He was astonished by the softness of the words.

"It's … too different," he said at last, and it was true.

It seemed as if he finally took off a heavy iron mask, which had been clasped to him and about which he hadn't even known. It was easier to breathe – he suddenly felt fresh spring wind come from nowhere and caress his cheek.

"Now you are smiling," Rexia snorted and left her position behind his chair.

Was he? And then, why not… Something about her steps put him on his guard. They were heavier, than when she came in an hour ago. Heavier and slower… He heard such steps, returning from hard battles – the warriors by his side used to tread that way, fagged out by the fury of the fight, half-dead from fatigue. She could not be that tired, could she?

…_to heal an elf! Isn't it beyond my powers, brother? _

"I must go now," the girl said, her voice even hoarser, than it usually was, "It's getting late".

Legolas wanted to object, but she practically ran to the door. In a second the sound of her steps died off somewhere in the street.

* * *

All that Rexia could do was to go out of that house and fall down, squirming with pain. Eru, Varda, Manve, it was horrible… So horrible… She raised her hands and squeezed her aching temples. Little by little she was coming to herself, but there was no strength to get up, just to define, what was left of her.

How could she even try to do it? How could she be so self-confident?

"I guess, I've had enough of elves," declared Rexia out loud.

She was not going to cross this threshold once again. Let someone else give up her life for the sake of the throne of Mirkwood. She just didn't care.


	4. To say I'm sorry

_Disclaimer: _Rather tired to say this – don't own anything, except my computer and my twisted imagination.

_Author's note: _Your reviews are welcomed – one and all.

**Deana: **Poor Rexia! She doesn't have much choice. :o) ( Is your "lol" a good "lol" or shall I go and hang myself?)

**Nautika:** Thank you for understanding. :o)) I shall keep it in mind.

**Chapter four.**

**To say "I'm sorry".**

Indeed, she didn't care. But others, unfortunately, did. For six days Rexia had been enjoying life and freedom – to a certain extent, taking into consideration human patients, until her father called her up to him, his eyes serious and deprecative.

"Aren't you going to visit Prince Legolas once more?" he asked, obviously knowing the answer beforehand.

"No, I'm not," said Rexia calmly. She was determined not to give up. "And there are reasons for it."

Seeing her stubbornness, her father just smiled. It was he who brought it up in her. And it was he who could manage it – or at least flattered himself with the hope that he could. He pointed at the chair next to his own.

"Sit down, child. I'd very much like to hear your _reasons_."

Rexia pursed her lips, but obeyed.

"I have no time," prevented she, "Our neighbour's boy caught cold again – they asked me to come an hour ago."

"They can wait," reassured her the older man, receiving an annoyed gaze in respond, "and please, don't look at me like this, it won't help."

"As if I don't know," chuckled Rexia. She just couldn't stay strict, when it came to her father. In such moments she felt like a little puppy, bouncing up and down and trying to bite an enormous good-natured mastiff. "Dad, I'm tired. I barely dragged myself home after just _trying _to do something with that blindness of his. Do you want me to go mad?"

He shook his head. This sign of agreement with her, however, didn't set the girl at ease – she knew such conversations too well to feel satisfied. The next remark of her father proved her right.

"You know, it was the same with people... At first… But now you are strong enough to heal hundreds of them."

"He is not human, Dad!" exploded Rexia, "He is … he is… a weird creature!"

Her father knit his brow… She just glared at him, waiting for the continuation. To her surprise he suddenly gave up.

"Very well," he said, as his face took a cool and detached expression, "but at least go there and tell him about your decision in person. No matter how weird he is, he doesn't deserve to be treated like that."

"Later," Rexia jumped up, glad that the talk was through.

"Now," snubbed he.

* * *

It has been six days since she last came… Minutes were slipping by, flowing into hours, hours turned

into centuries. Centuries of waiting… Of hoping… and of hopelessness…

He gave a start each time the door opened – but there were only the messengers of his father, who greeted him. They brought food and clothes and the latest news, and then went away again. He did not talk to them.

Why was she so cruel? Or may be she was ill? Please, come! – he pleaded, - don't say you left me!

For a moment he thought he heard the light steps, and yet did not believe his ears. He refused to experience the pain of disappointment once more…

But he forgot about it, when somebody knocked…

* * *

She made out a faint cry, some noise, and the door flung open.

Oh … dear … Valar…

"Legolas!" gasped she, terrified at the sorry sight he was.

His skin was even paler, than it seemed that first day, and under his eyes there were deep black shadows. He looked as if he had not been sleeping for several nights. But at the sound of her voice his face lit up. He stepped closer.

"You came back…," whispered the elf, reaching out to touch her. She shrank back and saw fear and hurt change his clear-cut features. Slowly, as if hit by an arrow, Legolas fell on his knees, bowing down before her.

"Stay…" said he, so quietly, that she barely heard it, "I beg you."

Rexia suddenly had a nasty kind of feeling somewhere in her throat. She knew this sensation – first there would be a hard lump, rising up and not letting her breathe or speak, then her eyes would start to burn… The girl was cruelly biting her lower lip, trying to prevent the inevitable. She wouldn't give up… Legolas was still on his knees, and to her horror, Rexia saw a tear coursing down his cheek – and he, just like her, was torturing his lips in order to hide his weeping… That was more than she could bear.

And she knelt near him, her hand caressing his dishevelled hair. The elf began whispering something very rapidly, telling her something she couldn't understand, because blood shot in her ears, and her eyes were dim with her own tears of shame for making him suffer so much.

"Stop!" pleaded she, close to hysteria, but he didn't and she had to put her finger on his lips. "Stop…"

Legolas broke off. Rexia realized, she had to say something, and the right words came so clearly, as if it was not her to pronounce them:

"Aranno." (I'm sorry)

* * *

It was already dark, when Rexia came back home. Entering the room, she understood that there was somebody waiting for her and smiled a tired and ironical smile.

"Is everything alright?" asked the anticipant, "Did you speak to him?"

"You won," answered she matter-of-factly before going upstairs to her room.

Her father hemmed with satisfaction and returned to his book and a cup of hot and steaming tea.

* * *

**_A/n :_** "_Aranno" is closer to "Forgive me", since it's imperative, but I guess the sense is clear. :o)_

_Ihope you liked this little bit, and your key-board didn't suffer too much from the tears shed onto it. :o) Review, OK?_

_Yours, Adamanta._


	5. Talk to me

_Disclaimer: _Don't own it. (grinding my teeth)

_Author's note: _Since some of you are unhappy with my "dashing" instead of "quoting", I decided to use quotes – to ease your task and diversify my writer's experience. Again – we just have different schools of literature. If you don't mind, the previous chapters stay in their original version. I'm so terribly lazy. :o)))

Thanks everyone who is reading my opus. Wouldn't you like to share your opinion with me?

:o)

**Deana: **She will do everything possible. :o) Especially if you keep sending your wonderful reviews. (blackmail) By the way, you had your birthday not so long ago, didn't you? Or am I mistaken?

**Inwe Tasartir: **Glad that you came back. :o) And do you have any suppositions of your own about my native language? It's not that I don't want to tell. I'm just curious about what you may think. ;o)

**Chapter five.**

_**Talk to me**._

"You are not like him at all."

"M-m?"

"You are not like Ralon."

Rexia gave a short laughter. It was quite in the character of their brief "meetings", which had been lasting for two weeks already. Each time both of them would keep silence, then Legolas would suddenly make a dreadfully out-of-place remark and she would be involved in a seemingly harmless conversation. Conversation about her… Rexia did everything to tell him as little as she could; she was always on the alert to prevent the intrusion into her life. She would answer dryly, almost with hostility. The elf would take offence… End of the story. But what put her on her guard was that he never stopped trying to get her talking. And that her wish to relax and let him this liberty was gradually getting stronger.

"I don't want to be like him," said she, stirring the usual portion of sedative.

"It's too bad. He is a nice boy."

It seemed to her that there was mockery in the voice of the elf and for some reason she felt hurt. Swallowing the resentment, she muttered:

"That's why I want to bear little resemblance to him. One "nice" child is enough for my parents. They must have some diversity."

If Legolas was disappointed with the result of his attack, he showed no sign of it.

"You are older than he is, aren't you?"

"You are mistaken."

Was he going to continue irritating her? Silence reigned for some moment, followed by another question:

"What is it you smell of?"

Rexia almost dropped a cup she was going to hand him. A fair half of the potion immediately splashed out onto her dress and hands, and she gave a hiss of pain – it was obviously too hot to be used as bath water. Lucky the elf was to be able to ask such preposterous questions – otherwise by now he would have been a happy possessor of a burnt mouth and tongue. At least it would have set her free from his … sociability, thought Rexia vindictively.

"What's the matter? Are you hurt?"

Damn his curiosity!

"A bit," admitted she reluctantly, "I can bear this."

"Why won't you heal yourself? I shall wait," suggested Legolas. He was so surprisingly anxious that Rexia, who was going to snarl at him, suddenly decided not to. Instead of it she took a chair and sat down, blowing her fingers to calm the shooting-pains.

"I cannot," said she simply, "I can never heal myself. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try – there's no result. If I catch a cold, I have a seven-day fever, if I cut myself, I'm not able to stop a wound, if I have a headache, I'm up against a brick wall with little outcome. I guess it's a law of nature."

"Then shouldn't you at least take some of the beverage, you always give to me? I had the impression that it can serve as a pain-killer."

She made a little face of disgust and purred as nonchalantly as she could:

"Oh, sure. And then you will drink it, and later we shall hug each other and sing: "There is an inn, a merry old inn", swaying back and forth, like young birches under the wind. And if for a moment you thought… What?"

Legolas was laughing so hard that the girl felt confused.

"Evidently you drank too much of it yesterday," her sarcasm was an attempt to hide strange embarrassment, "I should have watched you more carefully."

"I'm sorry," shamelessly lied he, "Though no, I'm not. It's … a long time since I laughed last."

"It was not funny," mumbled Rexia, thankful that he cannot see the deep scarlet shade of her face.

"It was unpredictable. So, what did you hurt?"

The girl tarried a little, then shrugged her shoulders.

"My palm… My fingers…"

She was surprised, when Legolas resolutely stretched out a hand.

"I want to help, if you don't mind. Will you let me…"

He didn't finish the phrase, and his smile suddenly stiffened and slowly vanished from his lips, as if washed away by the rain. The change stung Rexia… Her heart sunk at the realization of what he was going to say. _Let me **see…**_ The veil of sadness descended upon him once more, but this time it had the shade of another feeling, something more complicated. His face had a strange mixture of expressions – hurt, pride, vulnerability and anger at himself for having exposed it, anxious suspense and inceptive detachment… Not allowing him to plunge deeper into that vortex, she chose the best thing to do – to pretend that she didn't understand what had happened, or rather that nothing had happened at all. Her palm lay into that of the gloomy-looking elf. He gave a start and then silently covered it with his left hand, entrapping her fingers into the circle of his own ones.

"It's a scald," stated Legolas in an undertone, "Am I right?"

Rexia nodded, quite oblivious to the fact that he would hardly perceive this sign of agreement. Though he didn't seem to be waiting for the answer. His fingertip accurately followed the contour of the red spot on her skin, shifted to its center and began drawing small spirals, each time coming back to the most injured place. The girl watched his movements, unable to get rid of the impression that he was "listening" to her body, to the running of her blood, so grave and concentrated he was. The colour of the burnt was getting paler and paler; it disappeared almost completely. Her palm grew unexpectedly hot under his touch, she was fervent and cold all over, and her heartbeat, usually so calm and measured, turned into a chain of prickly pangs. Half-spellbound, Rexia shifted her gaze from the interlacement of their hands to his face – and did not recognize him. She used to see rather lackluster features, a hard and bitter line of the mouth, stooping shoulders… But at that moment, sitting in a dark room and holding her hand, he was…unearthly. Alight… Elven.

"Why are you shivering?" asked Legolas softly, never breaking the skin-contact. Rexia flinched, instantly shaking off that insane delusion.

"You are hurting me," responded she with a catch in her voice. The elf stopped short and, pulling her hand away from his hold, she inwardly shrank at how staggered and offended he looked.

"Forgive me." Rexia had to read his lips to understand it.

"That's all right. Now, I think, the drink is cold enough," her insouciance was as feigned as his restored composure, "Shall I begin?"

Legolas folded his arms and closed his eyes as if isolating from the whole world.

"No," answered he at last, "Not today. I'm tired."

Not uttering a word, Rexia took her bag and came out of the room. She did not turn around, otherwise she would have noticed, that the pale back of the hand of the elven prince was now marred with the shapeless red stain, identical with the one which had already faded on her own skin.

* * *

_A/n The song "There is an inn, a merry old inn"_ _belongs to Tolkien and was sung by Frodo in "The Fellowship of the Ring"._

_Waiting for your reviews._

_And – sorry to say that - soon I won't have the opportunity to post chapters as quickly as I do it now._ _But I shall keep writing, don't even doubt. _

_Me._ _:o_

_P.S. Happy St.Valentine's day._


	6. Denial

_Disclaimer: _Not mine. Pf-f-f.

_Author's note:_ "Thanks" to all the readers and thousands of "thanks" to my most responsible reviewers. I don't know what I would do without you, really.

**Deana: **I do my best. :o) Have you checked your fanfiction mail recently? I sent you something. Plee-ease, check it…

**Inwe Tasartir: **Gracias por el cumplido, querida amiga (right?). I'm very flattered. :o) Actually, I'm Russian. (just don't ask me about snow and bears – I haven't seen any for ages) As for the plot bunnies – they are just flowers. Berries are soon to come. I hope… :o)

**Blackrosemystic:** Wow! I'm out of words. It was much unexpected and very pleasant. Thank you. :o)

**Anxioustritip:** :o)

**Chapter six.**

_**Denial. **_

_I DO not love thee!—no! I do not love thee! _

_And yet when thou art absent I am sad;_

_And envy even the bright blue sky above thee,_

_Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad._

_"I do not love Thee"_

- Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

When the door behind her closed, Legolas clenched his teeth and hid his face in his hands, letting all the excruciating feelings overwhelm him. He hated his weakness. He hated his inability to conceal it from her. He hated her for what she was doing to him. Though – and he knew it very well – if he lost those painfully precious hours spent listening to her cruel cutting remarks … melting under her careful touch… - he would not be able to continue his life the way he had done all the years, when he hadn't even known she existed. When she hadn't existed at all.

There were moments, when she discarded her rough mask. She smiled – he heard it in her voice, when its hoarse note became softer, and unsuccessfully tried to imagine her face. She laughed – her laughter was a dark melody, always sneer-tinted, and still bewitching. She called him by his name – and although in most cases she meant to mock at him this way, although she almost invariably added "the Prince of Mirkwood", ruining the intimacy created by the informal address, he was eagerly waiting for the next time to hear it escape her lips.

He grew dependable upon her, not having seen her face, not knowing anything about her. It was no more a question of restoring his vision. The girl was bound to him till he got rid of the blindness. After that he would probably be forced to let her go, since she didn't show any signs of caring for him. She would be glad to set herself free from the burden of healing him.

The elf settled back in his chair and unintentionally touched the burnt on his hand, left from that injudicious attempt to cure her. She resisted his intervention in her private space too much. He realized to what extent her consent to let him get closer was dictated by his foolish blunder and even more foolish demonstration of his dismay. She pitied him. He was tearing between rejoicing over it and taking umbrage at this alms.

Still for an instance he almost believed that he had managed to break the wall around her. That his touch was not unwelcome…

_You are hurting me…_ His nails scratched the injured hand, but even the physical pain couldn't compare with that caused by her words. Why did she repel him? Was her repugnance for him so strong that it drove her to shiver? He couldn't believe it, did not want to believe it.

Why didn't he held in his infuriation? She could have thought that he was turning her out of the house, and curse him, she would have been right.

It was his fault. With his own hands he shattered that fragile balance of reluctant trust between them, which he had been creating for two weeks. Eru knows what he will have to do to renew it, when she returns. If she returns…

* * *

That night Rexia was not graced with much sleep. She was sitting on a windowsill, staring blankly into the inky sky, and for the first time in her life had a crazy desire to talk to the full moon.

From the very beginning she knew it was a bad idea... Her self-preservation was wiser than she, it had given her countless warnings, but she ignored them. She thought the only danger for her was to spend too much of her vital strength to heal him… How could she possibly imagine that something of the kind would happen? How could she possibly let it happen? Poor stupid girl… She mocked at herself and tried to smile, but her lips betrayed her, making a sardonic grin.

Her friends – female friends - always amused her with their rapt glances, languishing sighs and dull chirping at the sight of any male elf, passing by. Yes, they were beautiful pictures, but what a mortal human girl could have to do with an immortal creature? She thought she was sage…rational… She prudently avoided such connections. Not that it was especially hard – she was brought up self-sufficient enough not to search for a man suitable to hang herself on. She had been industriously exterminating all the romantic fits from her mind – loneliness, yearning, twinges of anguish she had, when the spring stars rose over the forest and the nightingale cried out its heart in the trees near her window…

As it was doing now…

_Unearthly…Alight…Elven…_ Was she going mad?

…_shining hair, streaming in the wind, a tender touch of his hand and a ghost of a smile in the eyes,_

_glimmering with the purest azure… _

She had to take herself in hand…

_Why are you shivering?_

That's enough!

Calm down, she ordered to herself. It couldn't have gone so far. To focus such keen attention on it was to dance on the blade of becoming ludicrous. It was already too much for her to be a laughing stock in her own eyes. She wouldn't bear further humiliation.

"Nothing will come of your singing," whispered Rexia to the invisible weeper, which was hiding in the thick foliage silvered by the rays of moon, "And of your shining," added she to the pallid disk in the skies, "Tomorrow I'll go there and do my job – nothing else. He is no better than the others. Neither am I."

* * *

One could say that she was practically tranquil, following the road to the house of Legolas. As she had expected, in the morning the torments of the previous night seemed almost funny. Almost…

Her heart skipped a bit when the tiled roof glimpsed between the branches, and she instantly chastised herself with a rather perceptible pinch. Hasn't she seen roofs in her life?

The pinched place gave her sensations so unpleasant, that the sight of the house itself, of the front door and even of the stairs to the first floor didn't impress her as much as the roof.

She was already going to come into the room, when she realized that the elf was not alone. She caught sounds of several voices – the one, belonging to Legolas (at which she deserved another pinch) and two of three others. Rexia was never too curious; she always held the opinion that knowing much of what she shouldn't demanded proper actions on her part – and it was something she desired less. But this time some unaccountable premonition froze her still and left unable to do anything but overhear pieces of conversation.

They spoke Sindarin – Rexia understood the most part, though she hardly ever used it herself. Thanks to Ralon, who once refused to speak any other language except the Elvish, she learnt a lot of it. Besides, the interlocutors were unusually slow in their enunciation. Their tone was that of a pent-up threat and enmity.

"…failed again?" the voice of Legolas was acid. The one, speaking to him, just poignantly chuckled. "Guilty. But…since you are **_unable_** to join us, where else can we find a warrior apt to such a task?"

Rexia was convulsed with this hit below the belt. She must have made a careless move, because the voices behind the door suddenly became quiet. Unconsciously feeling the danger, the girl stepped back and uttered a shriek of fright at her running against somebody's tall figure. Before she could do anything, iron hands grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and pushed into the room, a sharp edge of a dagger against her throat.


	7. New faces

_Disclaimer: _If I don't own anything from the world of Tolkien, I hope at least to own your attention. ;o)

_Author's note: _This chapter appeared to be a bit longer than I had expected. Your comments will be much appreciated. :o) Thank you.

**Deana: **(waving my hand) Enjoy. :o)

**Ara, Goddess of the broken:**I blushed. It rarely happens to me. :o) Thanks for your review, it's heart-warming.

**x-jacqui-x** After such a praise how can I quit?

:o) Thank you very much.

**Blackrosemystic:** Not much of angst in this chapter, but I promise you plenty of it later. It's always pleasant to hear from you. :o)

**Chapter seven.**

_**New faces. **_

The feeling of cold metal so close to her bare skin nauseated Rexia. She was paradoxically glad that the grip of her captor appeared to be so strong – or else she would have simply sat on the floor, because her legs were sinking under her.

She had enough of quick wits not to twitch. The blade was so well sharpened that any movement could result in nothing but a cut throat, and she was definitely not ready to say good-bye to her life.

When the sickening green fog of first consternation fell from her eyes, she saw that the room was crowded with elves. Legolas occupied his usual chair. Four elves – slim and supple like withes – were gazing at her with unalloyed animosity in their lucid eyes, each holding a gleaming poniard. Next to Legolas settled another person, with his legs crossed and with the expression of mild irony on his regular-featured face. He seemed sincerely amused by the scene performed.

She ventured to look back and got a hard glance in return.

"What's the matter?" questioned Legolas anxiously, "What is it there?"

"I caught a spy, my Prince," told him the tower of an elf, not loosening his clutch. Rexia already heard her vertebrae crackle before breaking into tiny splinters.

"I'm not a spy," croaked she with absolutely an alien voice, "I'm a healer."

Legolas gave a start and leapt up, his brows frowned with anger.

"Let her go. Now." ordered he in a tone allowing no appeal.

Strong fingers around her neck relaxed, but just a bit, and she managed to take a sip of air. The smirk on the lips of the sitting one became even more apparent.

"She was eavesdropping," obstinately said the captor.

Under the cheek-bones of the elven Prince swelled knots of muscles. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to express whatever he was going to, because the only person in the room who found it all funny suddenly made himself heard.

"The thing is not that she was overhearing," he was lazily prolonging sounds, "The thing is how much she managed to overhear."

"I was not overhearing!" rejoined Rexia, gaining back her voice, "I just wanted to come in…"

"Lie," snapped back the stubborn guard, "she was standing there for some time."

"Even if I did hear, it doesn't mean I understood. I don't know your language," yielded she to the irrefutable evidence of her guilt.

By the distrustful looks of the elves Rexia tardily concluded that she made a mistake. The smile of the accuser sent goose-pimples down her strained spine.

"I would be glad to believe you, milady," drawled he, "but if it is so, how come that we speak Sindarin, and you answer with little trouble?"

"Milady" took a sharp breath and closed her eyes in defeat. Imbecilic slip… She rarely had any chance to practice deceiving and each time she dared somebody caught her red-handed. She always forgot her lies. But, honestly, this time it was even worse than that.

And she chose the only way of acting she knew when at bay. She got into a fury. A fury so wild that it became difficult to breathe. Why should she make excuses? Whatever she did it was her right. Why should she efface herself in front of this upstart?

"Go on," seethed she through clenched teeth, "press this piece of iron harder and your Prince will rot here as a blinkered and hobbled horse."

The elf behind her hesitated, his hands slightly trembling.

"Is he still holding you!" exclaimed Legolas. With rare satisfaction the girl noted that she would be very frightened if that dreadful note of menace in his question were intended for her.

"No, he has left me alone," lied she, this time perfectly smoothly.

"Then come here. Come to me," commanded the Prince. Under any other circumstances Rexia wouldn't bear any directions, but then…

She gave a sweet smile to the guard and without further hindrance released herself from his grasp to step closer to her patient. Legolas slowly returned in his chair, not letting her get an inch away from him. She was surprised, but suddenly appreciative when he made her sit on the elbow-rest near him and pointedly put his arm around her waist in a protective gesture. Having wavered for a time she relaxed, allowing him to guard her in that strange way.

"That's highly touching," commented the mocker, observing the picture with his eyes of an odd colour – withered green with brown specks dispersed around the pupils. His hair was also uncharacteristic of an elf. It was uncharacteristic even of a human - bluish grey waves, which fell on his straightened shoulders and finished with uneven strands.

"So," continued he, "now I see that you really are the healer of his. Forgive my suspicion, milady. I just expected something more … refined."

The arm around her strained. She narrowed her eyes. Even through the pane of her anger she saw that the elf was trying to sting – but not her. He aimed at Legolas, for some reason having assumed that she was his sensitive point and checking out the correctness of this assumption.

"I'm not sure I should understand your insinuation," said she coldly. Let him think she didn't see his real intentions and was mortally offended. Let him get bogged down in the empty wrangle with a blistering village maiden, instead of going on hurting Legolas.

However he didn't… He just smiled once more and gallantly nodded to her. Under his piercing glance Rexia felt not only obvious, but completely naked and transparent.

"Loyal, aren't you?" his tone was rather that of affirmative than questioning, "Very laudable. Though it's quite common for young girls."

She severely blushed and lowered her gaze, boiling with anger and desire to be swallowed up by the earth. Eru, was it so evident? Why can't she hold her tongue when it is appropriate?

"Well, since we know we can trust you completely, I think there will be no harm in enlightening you about the matter of our predicament," uttered her opponent almost civilly, "No doubt you race was surprised, to put it mildly, when we came back?"

Rexia slowly nodded her approval, pondering over the hidden motive of his wish to confide her something of manifest importance. She did not doubt for a moment that his aim was not a noble one.

"We returned in a search of someone. Of a very significant person. You heard of Valar, didn't you?"

And once more she had to express her agreement. Satisfied, the elf went on and didn't stop anymore.

"It happened so that Eru, may his name be glorified, decided that the Valar of the present need fresh blood. A new creature - gifted and blessed. A new Vala in a human flesh. He loves you, mortals," chucked he, but his eyes remained serious, "But… There are no people either in Valinor, or in his sacred halls, and all he could do was to breathe that sublime soul into one of those, who were born in Arda. However even the Valar themselves were not to know into whom exactly embodied their follower. They sent us to find the child and take it to Valinor, for a divine creature ought not to live among hardships and grief of your world. A feeling of being not like the others irritates and a feeling of being stronger than the others depraves. This creature is quite able to grow contemptuous towards the world and the souls of those, who live near him. It can become power-thirsty and cruel. And even Morgoth the Cursed did not cause such harm as this person might cause."

"But we were too late," said Legolas suddenly, "The child had already been brought into the world. And now we are looking for it, loosing the precious time. We began to think this new Vala knew that we had come and why we had. He seems to be hiding, though we always feel his presence… Everywhere…"

"Pray tell me, milady," the grey-haired bent forward; she unconsciously pricked up her ears, "Can you name anyone less normal than the others? Anyone … aside from people… Anyone with whom one is awkward, feeling that he is somehow different?"

"If you were not speaking to me, I would think that it's me you're speaking about," muttered Rexia thoughtfully, "Is it me?"

The elves exchanged derisive glances and almost simultaneously burst out laughing, sending the silvery notes through the air. It seemed to her that even Legolas slightly turned the corners of his mouth upwards. Not that she felt ashamed, but it gave her a very unpleasant after-taste.

"No, milady," responded the story-teller, "We know for sure that it is a man, not a woman. Besides you are too young. Of course, you gift is incontestable. But to be a healer doesn't mean to be a Vala. We have wonderful healers of our own, and still they are hardly different from each of us. And… by the way, how soon shall we have pleasure to see Prince Legolas in good health?"

The change-over was so sudden, that for a moment Rexia just stared at him, his words flying about her comprehension but not reaching it.

"Soon," answered she concisely.

"I don't see any betterments."

"To see the betterments is my duty," Rexia told him as peacefully as she could, "You have … a wonderful business of your own. Go on searching and let me go on healing."

The glitter blazing up in the green eyes testified that he didn't like her having a dig at him.

"Prince Legolas would be of a great help in our search. We are interested in his well-being."

"Edwen, it's quite enough," remarked Legolas.

"As far as I can judge you really are," she exaggeratedly glanced over the room.

"I think you either protract the cure on purpose, or, being a fraud, try to conceal your inability to do something helpful."

"And I think you undertake too much."

The elf stood up – so did she. Hostility arose over them, sharp and unmasked… For some time they were looking at each other, and then all of a sudden a smile as a poisonous snake crept upon his lips.

"Oh, now I see," grinned he, "Decided to use his advice and fall near, _little lady_? Doing all in order to be caught eagerly? Funny you are. This ring is not for your finger."

Rexia lost her gift of speech. The elf bowed and beckoned the others to leave.

"Don't lay yourself out so obviously," said he already in the doorway, "Even I don't believe he is credulous enough to pay any attention to it. Good day."

The door closed with a bang.

"The blueblood!" she spat out, quite enraged.

Sure, it was too late to say the final words. Besides, Rexia was so exasperated that it could take her at least two days to make up a smart retort. Such wicked calumny… And what is worst – that Edwen had good reasons to think of her the way he did. He was absolutely right about what was concerned with a cause of her behaviour. Just … he gave it a wrong interpretation, arrogating to her the motives which had little in common with her person.

"Who was he?" asked she, a little more calm.

"My uncle," replied the elf, nervously fingering the edge of his tunic, "My mother's brother. I'm sorry, but what did he mean by saying about my advice and your falling near?"

"It doesn't matter," she decided not to remind him about that accident on the day of their arrival, "He mistook me for somebody else. I hope you realize it," accentuated she not without the ulterior thought.

"I certainly do. I'm ashamed for him," Legolas told her quietly. He was very pale.

"And what else is left for you?" suddenly snarled the girl, "Though I know what. Try and recover as soon as you can so that I didn't have to associate with any of your relatives again!"

She immediately regretted her outbreak. It was not his fault that she had found an adversary over her head. She just couldn't see that bitterness in the corners of his lips and that shadow over his face. Call it stupidity, but she had to surrender.

"I'm sorry," said she almost in a whisper, "I didn't want to offend you. Let's forget it."

Legolas frowned with utter distrust. Then his features softened, and he smiled at her, which made her heart skip a beat. Either of her former denial, or of a new, strange pleasure… She chose not to get too deep into it…

"And what else is left for me?" questioned the elf softly.


	8. Meet the danger

**Disclaimer:** Nothing is mine. :o) Such a pity.

_Author's note:_ Here I am, still sneezing a bit, but upon the whole rather cheerful. :o) It was a tough week, I should say. I really appreciate your patience and your concern.

**Deana:** In this case I'd rather advise you to wait for Chapter ten (pretend that I didn't blurt out a secret). O:o)) Thanks for always being there.

**Blackrosemystic:** The main thing is that you manage to find time and to read what I breed. It's important for me. And, by the way - you dance great. ;o))

**x-jacqui-x:** Thank you. You are very thoughtful. In fact, you are just a honey-bunny. :o)) Take care.

Well, where did we stop? Ah, I remembered…

**Chapter 8.**

_**Meet the danger.**_

Another week was on the verge of falling into the troubled waters of time. She was still a young rebel with a stormy soul and clever fingers. He was still a noble elf with thousands of years and hundreds of battles behind him, an elf now fettered to one place, to one voice, to one touch. Neither strangers, nor friends…

She became a little milder. He did not push her anymore. They could spend a day in complete silence. When they spoke, they spoke calmly, almost indifferently. Nothing inimical, nothing personal… A thin brink between a smile and a frown.

Sometimes she allowed herself more than this… Sometimes after a usual procedure of healing she forgot her hands on his face, pretending to be exhausted. Just for several heartbeats she permitted her palms to sense the warmth of his skin and a slight caress of his breath.

Little she knew that she was not the only one, counting seconds, not daring to scare off a frail moment by a heedless motion.

He learnt to foretell when his patience would be rewarded by this gesture of confidence. He learnt to wait for it and to freeze in false apathy and inattention under the radiance of her touch. He forced himself not to flinch of delight, when she took her hands away, randomly brushing her fingertips against his lips, dry and sore of anticipation.

She could hurt – Legolas realized it long ago. It was like she was born to mock and cause pain. It seemed extremely difficult to avoid her thorns, because she kept them sharp instinctively. At times he was on the edge of losing his heart, bleeding from the attempts to approach her. But he felt that her soul was not icy. She could be generous, and just, and rather brave, though her bravery to a great extent originated from her obstinacy and her spirit of contradiction. There was something wistful about her independency, as if she had no choice but stand on her own feet, not because it was really so, but because she prohibited herself to see any other opportunity or did not see it, indeed. He longed to show her that she was wrong… Yet he knew that it must bring only circumspection or, what was worth, a sarcastic repulsion, could he but unleash his desire to … to take care of her. And if he had to stay far to stay near, he would keep it in.

Once again Rexia was anxiously examining the still pupils of Prince of Mirkwood. She began to worry… She did not understand why her cure didn't bring any results. Earlier she had been dead sure that she could do something. But however unpleasant it might be, that _Edwen _appeared to be right – there were no betterments.

Obviously to distract her from biting doubts, her subconsciousness obligingly offered her another thread of a thought. That _Edwen_ talked some nonsense about Valar… There was something she missed in his story, something that suddenly became of an intense interest for her.

"Legolas!" called she, "May I ask you a thing?"

"Ask," nodded the elf so promptly as if they had been talking all day long and stopped a minute ago, what was untrue. In fact, it was the first time she said something for the last twenty-four hours.

"What will you do when you find the one you are searching for?"

His brows rose a little, but he didn't evade the question.

"Take him to Valinor, I suppose. He is meant to live there."

"So … You will leave…," a month ago this idea wouldn't seem so vexing, but now the realization of it unsettled Rexia. She suddenly felt very lonely and robbed of all her joy, if she had any.

"I think so," admitted Legolas cruelly. Rexia's heart stopped still. She stood up from the chair, which from a certain time was considered to be hers and came up to the window.

"Don't you mind some fresh air?" asked she thinly, desperately hoping that he wouldn't distinguish nervous tremble in her voice.

Not waiting for the answer she turned the handle and cracked the window open. The bittersweet summer wind brought heavy smells of oleasters and rich grass into the room. She leaned against the carved windowsill to let it permeate into her lungs, but instead of soothing her it brought her sadness.

"And what if you don't find him?" she wanted to know, clutching at straws.

"It's hardly possible. We must find him, since there are enough of scums here wanting to get him. Orc, for instance. We mustn't allow them surpass us."

"And what if he has already become the creature you are afraid of?"

Legolas straightened himself, and in his response she could hear wounded pride.

"We are not afraid of anything."

"On no account I thought you are," smiled Rexia, excursing from gloomy thoughts, "What I want to know is what you are going to do if he is not that kind and divine Vala you think him to be?"

The elf hesitated. Somehow Rexia understood that she had just touched something not so harmless and pure.

"We will have to do everything possible to stop him." said Legolas confidently. His face was hard and serious.

"You are going to kill him." surmised she, her eyes wide open. Legolas nodded assent.

"And then you will leave anyway…" muttered she, getting another nod in response.

The room plunged into silence.

"No wonder he is hiding," Rexia remarked quietly, "I would hide, too."

"Did I disappoint you?" inquired the elf.

She couldn't say no, because she was disappointed. She couldn't say yes, because …because she couldn't. Because his question didn't presuppose the real reason of her disappointment.

"It's your war," said she finally, "It's you choice. In any case I'll probably die before he grows strong enough to hurt somebody. So why should you care about my feelings if I don't?"

It seemed to her that Legolas wanted to say something, yet he instantly changed his mind.

"If you don't want to speak about us anymore, let's speak about you," proposed he, "You can heal, I know that. What else?"

"I beg the pardon?" laughed Rexia, surprised with rather an unusual question, "What else would you need?"

"Can you dance?"

"Do you want to dance?" supposed she sarcastically, "If so you've found the wrong girl. I'm no more inclined to dance than a decrepit old ent. Never even tried to."

"Sing, may be?" suggested the elf, "Can you sing?"

Sweet Eru!

"Actually, my singing can be very useful," chuckled the girl without a shadow of confusion, "Because of it not only our orchard, but also the orchard of our neighbours doesn't suffer from crows anymore. I frightened them away thoroughly."

"Is it really that bad?" he seemed to be mocking at her.

"Not that it is bad," said Rexia thoughtfully, "Just … nobody can listen to it. They say it's hard."

"Sing for me," asked he suddenly, "Sing and I'll tell you if it is really so."

"I dare not harass your elven ears with it."

"I'll bear."

Rexia considered for a moment. What harm can it bring? She will sing and the subject will no doubt be closed. She didn't hesitate as to choosing the song – it was prompted by their talk and had been running in her head even before they spoke about singing.

"Very well," she gave in, "But don't say I didn't warn you."

You had three arrows in your quiver,

One – to deprive me of my eyesight,

So that you were my only sunlight,

So that your shining made me shiver…

But you lost it…

And so you took another arrow,

Aimed at my neck to mute me, dear;

You hoped I'd yield to you in fear,

And all my world to you would narrow…

But you missed it…

Your hands around you bow you folded

And tried to pierce my poor heart

You wanted it to break apart

Since you were not the one to hold it.  
But I hid it…

I lifted arrows from the ground

And for the battle I prepare,

Now you're the one, who must beware,

For you're my prey, and I'm a hound.

Soon I'll catch you…

He recognized the song at once, and wondered at how it was that she knew it. It was the elven song, very ancient, even older than he was. But the performance of Rexia made it sound quite differently. Indeed, those who were not able to listen to her could in part be justified. There was nothing wrong with her ear or voice, nothing more than what he noticed during their first meeting. Though… There was something unbearable in her manner of deepening the sounds, in the aggression and threat, heard in each note, in her passages from hoarse cries to dangerous whisper. As if she treated the song as a spell, as a curse… The last sound died down, and he felt the drops of cold moisture on his forehead. A voice not for a mortal ear… Singing not for the elven understanding… No wonder nobody wanted to hear it. Even he couldn't keep from wincing at each new line.

"I told you," he heard that she was smiling, and smiling rather sadly, "Actually, my only consolation is that Ralon sings even worse."

"It was strange." Legolas had to admit, "I cannot judge it."

"I don't force you to," she was calm and reserved, "I must be going, you know."

He was not ready to let her go - for an instance he forgot that she was only a guest in his house. But _she_ didn't forget it. Once more he failed to make her feel at ease near him. He shouldn't have told her about their search. Yet he was so glad that she got interested in him at least marginally, that answered all the questions with eagerness. She was upset, he felt it. May be what he said wasn't what she could expected of lofty elves, and his attempts to smooth away this impression led to nothing. One more mistake, one more chance missed…

"Good bye, then," he half-bowed and almost inaudible added, "Come back sooner."

"I will," promised she much to his wonder, "Good bye, elven prince."

As always he heard her light steps rustle down the stairs, in the street and … stop. For some reason it made hair on his neck stand on end. It was not as if she began to tread so quietly that he couldn't hear her anymore. She stopped like someone suddenly staggered. The sound renewed, but to his horror he understood that she was stepping back, frightened by what she saw. Besides, there was something else, something that froze him alive – wild roaring, whistles, laughter and the clunk of orc's yataghans. And, overriding all that dreadful noise – one sound – Rexia's voice, screaming out a single word. His name.


	9. A fight blindfolded

**Chapter nine.**

**A fight blindfolded.**

_Before me goes a shield to guard me from harm:_

_It is the shadow of your arms between me and danger._

"_Love Song"_

_Mary Carolyn Davies_

"Legolas!"

Her voice choked, swallowed by hoarse triumphant yells. Panic seized him. She was there, surrounded by a crowd or raving beasts, and he was not able to stir a finger to help her.  
She cried once more, this time so desperately that he lost his head and stopped thinking about anything but that frightened girl in mortal danger.

… He knew his bow was still there, hanging on the wall, waiting to feel his fingers again. It took him not much time to find it.

He blessed the impulse, which urged Rexia to open the window and to forget it so. In one mad leap he flew up on a windowsill.

"Rexia!" called he, growing cold with terror at the thought that he was late to do anything to save her. A shaky answer almost made him go crazy of joy:

"I'm here. Legolas, who are they!"

"Press yourself to the wall!" shouted the elf, "Please, hurry!"

There was no time to check if she had obeyed. He braced himself before the combat and jumped in the dark, letting his body remember the years when such things were not out of ordinary for him. His muscles responded with familiar impatient ache. The landing was perfect – he didn't even reel, as if his legs rooted themselves in the ground.

"Rexia?"

"Behind you," whispered she, "How…"

"No time. Hold onto me," asked he, "Hold tight and don't let go!"

Slender arms wound around his chest, bringing her body against his. The air reeked with orcs. They were so noisy… The bow-string twanged, and somebody's war-cry turned into the death-rattle. His second arrow flew to nowhere. One of the orcs ventured to get near and immediately fell, stricken with a dagger, which Legolas always held with him.

"How many of them left?" he dropped over the shoulder.

"Three," said Rexia quickly, "Oh, now two."

"Noting to boast of when I meet Gimli," murmured Legolas discontentedly, more to reassure her, than to himself.

He was trying to define from which direction he should expect the next attack, but all of a sudden the noise abated. "They are going to shoot" – flashed in his mind. He hadn't thought about it, and now his brain was working at its full speed. The door was close; he could still manage to push Rexia into the house… There was no weapon, which could bring instant death, especially when the target was moving. It was questionable whether he would be able to hide himself, but it didn't matter for him. He had already made his choice between their lives, having taken that blind jump from the windowsill.

"Rexia, we are going inside," warned he, "Try to stay behind me."

"But… They are gone." said she.

Legolas was startled. However strange it might be, she told him the truth – he didn't hear any foreign sounds, except his own heavy breathing. Unbelievable… When surprise diminished he realized that Rexia was still holding onto him, hiding her face between his blade bones. He raised his hand and carefully stroke one of hers, which were catching on his tunic. Her fingers relaxed, but didn't let go. Now they were leisurely resting on his breast. Rexia took a deep quavery breath – Legolas became surprisingly and keenly aware of how close they bodies were. The elf could feel that strain was slowly escaping her… He didn't dare move not to interrupt this embrace. All he wanted was to keep standing like that, savoring the feeling of her small figure, trustingly pressed against him. She was safe… _She felt safe with him_. _She called him for help. _Exultation overfilled his every cell, exultation and bitter tenderness…

He did not know how many centuries had passed before her lips suddenly moved.

"I was so scared," whispered she into his tunic, warming it with her breath.

"It's all over," he told her just as quietly, "I'm with you."

She hemmed and turned her head so that her cheek lay on his back.

"You think me weak," uttered she hushfully, "I would if I were you. I… I never thought I would be so afraid of dying."

_I never thought I would be so afraid of somebody's death. _

"You are not supposed to be unfeeling, are you?" asked he instead of saying that.

"Unfortunately, you are right…" her intonation was oddly heavy, and the voice acquired the same quality as when she was singing not so long ago. Deep, dark, enigmatic…

He caught his breath, when her hand cautiously moved up his torso, burning him through the thin material of the tunic. He was almost ready to swear that it was not a gesture of gratitude or a casual touch…The shrill tinge of caress in it intoxicated him. His bow fell on the ground, as he found her fingers and rashly brought them to his lips, benumbed by the heady smell of her skin…

"Rexia, I …"

But she interrupted him:

"You shouldn't have done that. They could have killed you."

"They would have killed me anyway," he smiled at her soft reproach, "I wouldn't outlive you much. I had no choice."

Rexia stiffened behind him. Her hand slipped out of his grasp, and she pushed herself aside, gently, but deliberately.

"Oh," said she with her common voice, "Then lucky you are to be such an excellent warrior. Thank you for having worried about me, too."

Magic was gone. There was no doubt about it. The sparkling lake, in which he was ready to drown, darkened and glaciated. Its banks got overgrown with blackthorn. Uncomprehending of the reasons which caused this change, he turned to face the former Rexia - hard, impersonal and crisp.

"I guess nothing threatens you now. I shall go."

"Go? Now?" he was so astonished, that didn't notice offence and sharp disappointment, ringing in her phrase. "Rexia, you cannot. They are still near."

"What I cannot is to stay. It's seven o'clock. Do you think I'm going to spend here all night?"

She stepped forward, oblivious of the fact that he wouldn't recede, and immediately ran against him. Desperate, he grasped her shoulders – she winced, letting out a small cry. One of her sleeves was torn and wet.

"Are you wounded?" Legolas hurriedly probed her shoulder and found a thin scratch, obviously oozing with blood.

"One of them threw knives. I dodged them. Let me go."

"No," said the elf resolutely, "I cannot and I won't."

He turned towards the forest and gave a whistle – just one, to show his need of help, yet not of urgent help. In half an hour somebody will come to his call.

"I summoned the guards. If you don't feel like staying, they will accompany you home," explained Legolas to the silent girl. Then he bent forward, and before she managed to protest, easily lifted her up. "And I'd be very thankful if you told me where the door is," added he gallantly.


	10. To have and to hold

_Disclaimer: _Once again I repeat that everything that belongs to Tolkien cannot belong to me. Quod erat demonstrandum. ;o) But. Rexia and all that happens to her are mine.

_Author's note: _Just enjoy it… :o)

**Deana**:o))))) (with great fanfare) Receive it and receipt for it, my friend. ;o) I hope you won't have a grudge against me if I prolong the process a little. It won't be so interesting in a different way. A lot of thanks again.

**Nautika:** Thank you for your trust in me and don't worry. :o) The possibility that I won't finish it is **very** tiny. I'd rather say it doesn't exist at all. Especially when I'm constantly getting proofs that somebody cares. :o)

**escape5:** You know, your review made me feel as if I had passed my exam in Stylistics once more. A pleasant kind of feeling! Thanks. :o)

**Faerlas:** You probably won't believe it, but I've never been much of one for such things, either. :o) But I'm truly enjoying writing this story. The more flattering it is that I managed to make a person like you interested in it.

Now, I won't try your patience anymore…

**Chapter ten.**

_**To have and to hold.**_

**Chapter ten.**

_**To have and to hold.**_

_Oh, lift me from the grass!_

_I die! I faint! I fail!_

"_The Indian Serenade"_

_Percy Bysshe Shelley_

Rexia was sulkily cleansing the shoulder, wrinkling her nose each time a wetted rug passed over the deep crimson scratch. Her favorite dress was irrevocably spoiled – she had to cut off the sleeve to get to the wound. Of course she could have sewn another, but the dagger, Legolas gave her to get rid of this one, was spotted all over with viscous black liquid, staining the material and insufferably stinking of rot.

She was such a fool… To believe that an elven prince would jump from the first floor and fight so furiously, despite his blindness, just to save her trifle of a life! To lose her head and clasp onto him as …as a clothes-peg! To let him carry her into the house as a capricious child! Thanks Eru she didn't manage to commit more follies than she had already done. Because she was going to… Oh, she certainly was! Oh dear, let those guards hurry up, so that she could come home and die of shame as soon as she could.

Yet, what was that kiss about? She glanced back at Legolas. He was deep in thoughts – she wished she could read his mind and understand what plagued him. Was he thinking about her? Did he think about her at least sometimes?

Forgetful to her wound she was studying him, when suddenly his eyes opened wide and his face took the expression of utter amazement and childish helplessness, which at once changed into distrust.

"Rexia!" his voice was husky – he was turning his head, searching for her.

Rexia darted off to him, scared to death. He was pale as a ghost, but when she came near she realized that it was rather due to stark agitation than to anything else, she could be worried about.

"I saw…" whispered the elf fiercely, "I saw the light."

The girl gasped in surprise. She did it! She was so afraid, that she would fail… For a second everything else stepped back, leaving place only to joy and anxiety about him.

"Do you see something now?" she attempted to lean so that she could examine his eyes more carefully, but he was sitting, and her height didn't allow her to get close enough.

"No, I don't," confessed Legolas, "But I did… Spots of light… Dim colours. It seemed to me that I saw you."

"You could have," Rexia was still trying to reach him, "Do you mind?"

The only way out she could find was to put her knee on the chair between his knees and set her left hand against the backrest, all her weight shifted to one point. He turned his face up, and she noticed that his pupils, up to then just small dots, obviously widened and cleared up. An impudent lock of hair, having broken loose from her bun, was hampering her view. She tried to blow it away, then to brush aside – but it looked like it seriously made up its mind to irritate her. Losing patience, Rexia crossly shook her head. She shouldn't have done that…

All the pins, which had been put into her bun to prevent something like what happened, flew out as one. The heavy mass of her hair poured down onto her shoulders and onto the face and the chest of the sitting elf.

Legolas winced all over as if he had got a hard blow. He was totally unprepared for it, too unshielded, too occupied with his own sensations of being able to see, even if it was for just a moment. And when the rustling waves came down on him, burying him under the soft cover, he was caught off-guard. He felt his heart immediately flare up - the heat instilled into his blood, setting his whole body on omnivorous fire.

Eru! Rexia got still with embarrassment for her clumsiness.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" muttered she guiltily and reached up to take her damned hair away from his face and to throw it back. Several strands were still there – she already touched them, when something in his expression made her stop.

Her fingertips froze on his cheek, and he closed his eyes, breathing heavily. When will this torture be over? He was shattering to pieces…

His eyelids went down, but instantly flew up again. It struck her that their faces were separated by mere inches… Inches of air…

He heard her breathing break, but she stayed immobile… Then her hand slid up to remove a tress of hair from his forehead, her movements so slow as if she was day-dreaming.

Expectancy. That's what she read on his face. Eager expectancy and wild hope… Excitement in the lines of his half-parted lips…

It couldn't do any harm if she leaned a little closer…

She was so close, that he could swear their foreheads would touch if he only stirred. If he only moved forward… His heart was smiting his ribs…

_Rexia closed her eyes…_

Legolas almost moaned when the smooth warm lips brushed against his own, and then covered them in a slow irresolute kiss… His arms twined round her body, bereaving her of her bearing and cuddling to him so violently as if he expected her to vanish into thin air. He answered her with all the pain, and bitterness, and despair, weighing on him for all this time. With all the tenderness, and desire, and care, he was capable of…

…the misty thicket of Mirkwood, and the weeping of gulls above the blusterous sea, and the shining valleys of Valinor…

…the burning arrows of Moria, and the howling of werewolves, and the fury of the Last Battle…

He had gone through the ages to find her. She had led him through them. He survived because she had been waiting for him.

His hope. His torment. His love.

Valar, he craved to look in her eyes that moment!

Rexia started in his arms and put her hands between their chests to free herself.

"I'm sorry…" she seemed to be on the verge of tears, "I don't know what has come over me… I didn't want to."

"Rexia, please," begged he, not letting her push him away, "don't do that to me. Not again."

She stopped her resistance, but still hesitated, utterly strained, ready to escape.

"Are you playing with me?" asked Legolas desperately, cupping her face. She shook her head, her hair streaming down his forearms.

"Do you want to leave?"

He felt her lips curve a little, as she repeated her motion and gingerly touched his cheek. Legolas leaned against her palm, and then pulled her to his chest once more, stroking her temple and feeling wonderfully, madly complete.

Rexia nestled on his laps, tired of happiness, hiding her face between his neck and his collarbone. There were no words, just a ghost of a smile, a small sun, radiating in her heart. Someone to guard her… Someone to care… Someone she didn't have to repel… She placed a fond kiss on his neck, causing Legolas to smile.

"What did I do to deserve it?" asked he softly.

_You were born_ - thought she, but said something different aloud:

"Became blind?"

She immediately bit her lip, expecting that the elf would be vexed, but his smile just widened.

"Are you always so merciless?" teased he.

"You don't seem to care, do you?" Rexia was tousling his fair strands, winding them around her finger.

Instead of answering he just bent down and sealed her lips with another kiss, this time more passionate and fervent. She closed her eyes, giving up to new, bitingly-sweet sensations…

"Your Highness?"

This time they started both. Rexia jumped up from the laps of Legolas as a delinquent child, caught with a jam-jar. Why can't these elves step louder?

"Edwen." nodded Legolas coldly.

The owner of the dappled eyes and a bluish-grey mane bowed to Rexia with polite indifference.

"I heard your call," said he, "The guards are outside, cleaning up the mess. You fought well, Legolas."

"I wonder why I had to fight at all," sternness and enmity were back, "Don't you watch the frontiers?"

"I'll find out whose fault it was. Now, can I be of any help?" Edwen looked directly at the girl, and she jerked up her chin, subconsciously putting a shield between them. She didn't trust his knew behaviour.

"I want somebody to accompany lady Rexia home," Legolas stood up, unmistakably finding her near and squeezing her palm.

Edwen raised his brows, but contrary to her expectations, gave no comments about this gesture.

"Let me do it," suggested he, "Lady Rexia will be safer with me than with anybody else."

The expression on the face of Legolas clearly showed that he doubted this statement.

"Rexia, do you agree?"

She had no desire to make the situation tenser than it already was. The events of the day softened her, so she cast aside her ill-will towards Edwen. After all, he was simply another snobbish elf – nothing to worry about.

"Why should I object?"

"Very well, then." Legolas smiled – just for her - and kissed her fingers.

"I don't want to let you go," whispered he, ignoring the presence of a stranger in the room.

"I'll be back tomorrow. Good bye, … Legolas."

Their hands parted. Edwen opened the door for her, bowing again.

"Till you come," answered her elf, "Be careful, calad nin."

* * *

To her mild surprise, the company of Edwen was not as troublesome as she had expected. He asked no questions, except rather civil enquiries about her family, which were completely settled by her short answers.

They were walking through the forest - several times Rexia tripped over roots, sticking out of the ground and small stones – and each time the elf managed to catch her up, after which he invariably withdrew himself from her private space with a polite nod to her "thank you".

The sun was setting, when they finally left the thicket to appear on the outskirts of her town.

"I can be on my own now," said she, turning to Edwen, "It's not far."

"Forgive me, milady," the elf shook his head and continued his pace near her, "I must be certain that you will get home without any trouble."

She didn't feel like arguing, so didn't go beyond shrugging her shoulders.

"As you wish."

The windows were blazing with purple and gold flashes. Ribbons of dying sunlight lay across Edwen's face, making his eyes suddenly ruby-coloured. She was guardedly watching him, looking for something that could prove his kinship with Legolas and finding no such thing.

The thought about Legolas made her smile…

"What did I do to deserve it?"

Rexia almost gave a jump, absolutely wonder-struck. The same words… She shouldn't have relaxed so much in his presence. Nobody knows how much he heard and saw.

Though… He looked so genuinely surprised at her hardened gaze - it occurred to her that she was too one-sided. Just a coincidence… It was possible, wasn't it? He thought that she was smiling at him – nothing more.

"Here we are," she stopped near her house.

The appetizing smell of her mother's cooking drifted into the street through the half-open door. For the first time Rexia realized how hungry she was.

"Would you come in?" asked she out of sheer comity.

"No, I must be going," however, the elf didn't move, "You have a leaf in your hair."

She absentmindedly checked her tousled locks and pulled out a small carved thing.

"I wonder how it got there," she was impatient to go inside. "It's too early for fall of the leaves."

"Don't throw it away." suddenly said Edwen, "Summer leaves are beautiful. It's a pity that they are to fall and to wither. And it's a pity that some of them fall earlier than the others. Good-bye."

"Bye. Thank you for seeing me home," Rexia slightly waved her hand and entered, leaving him behind.

The first person she saw was her brother, who immediately sprang back from the window. He seemed unusually alarmed.

"What's happened?" he blurted out instead of greeting, "Why is he here?"

"It was late. Legolas worried about my going back," Rexia decided not to dilate on the subject of orcs. Anyway he won't see her shoulder, which was safely covered with the cloak. Ralon's face cleared up, as he took her bag from her to carry it upstairs.

"Hungry?" asked he hopefully, "I was waiting for you to eat together. Everything is in your room."

All of a sudden Rexia felt a wave of tenderness towards him. Strange, but she almost forgot how much she loved him in reality.

"Wait a minute," said she, giving him a kiss on the cheek, "I'll tell Mom and Dad that I'm back. Come up with it."

Ralon beamed with joy and flew up the stairs. "And this man is four years my senior!" – thought she grudgingly.

"Mom! Father! I'm home!"


	11. Is it

_Disclaimer: _I hate disclaimers! Hate, hate, hate, hate! (sulking) I don't own any personages or places from "LotR"… :op

_Author's note: _Just a little lyrical digression. :o) Relax, take a cup of coffee. (if you like it, of course). Thanks for staying with me.

**Deana:** Wow! Such a pity that I couldn't see it. :o)) Poor me… Let's go on? ;o)

**escape5:** You're always welcome. And thank you, too. :o))) I hope you'll keep in touch.

**Inwe Tasartir** Hola! I missed your comments. :o)) Welcome back and thank you very much.

**Faerlas:** Be careful not to fall down. It would be sad to lose such a nice reader. :o))

**Chapter eleven.**

_**Is it…? **_

The glade in front of the house bore no signs of yesterday's skirmish – even the grass was as thick and green as ever. No bodies, no arrows, nothing… It gave Rexia a strange feeling of irreality - if it were not for a scratch still burning on her shoulder, she would doubt, whether she had dreamt of that or really got over a deadly danger.

As for the rest of the day, there was no evidence of the verity of her recollections.

She woke up idle and happy, stretching herself under the hot rays, which were dancing on her bed. One of them climbed onto her lips and she chuckled, but immediately blushed and covered her head with a pillow. The warmth inside her was so light, yet so overwhelming, that she felt a dandelion, eager to scatter in the air, kissed by the invisible mouth of the wind.

Who said love was pain? Hasty, affected words!

All day long she was walking in the clouds. Everything seemed different. Pure colours of her life gained millions of hues. It was as if intending to cure his blindness she cured her own one instead.

She even found out that she had dimples… Barely visible dimples on her cheeks, appearing when she smiled, and not smirked.

And yet she realized that nothing had changed. She was the same – serious, self-disciplined, a bit cynical. But her mind and soul revealed a new facet, as a crystal under a casual beam of light, which refracted and reflected on her face with a vague sheen of evenness and softness, so unusual for her.

She could have wended there, to him, the very moment she left her house. But something made her linger… She visited all her patients, even those, who were waiting for her some other day. She wanted to savour each moment of keeping this blissful mystery to herself. To revel in being expected.

And now the same reason kept her standing on the threshold, suddenly indecisive to come in. She tried not to allow doubts to creep in, yet they were bothering her more and more insistently… What if everything wasn't as bright as she thought?

She reached out for the door handle... In for a penny, in for a pound…

Rexia didn't manage to enter, because the door opened on its own, and she was almost knocked down by a hurried elf. She immediately recognized the stubborn guard, who was going to strangle her during their last meeting in here. At the sight of her his face fell.

"Hello!" said Rexia friendly, to demonstrate her placability, "May I come in?"

"Of course, milady," the elf bowed low and stepped aside to make way. Already in the house, she was stopped by his quiet call, "Milady?"

"Yes?"

He uncomfortably shifted from one foot to the other.

"Will you forgive my behaviour that day?" asked he at last, not taking his eyes from the ground, "I was unpardonably rude. I just … We all thought you are powerless to help Prince Legolas and were…"

"…going to get rid of me?" finished the girl, smiling.

"We didn't want him to suffer." said the elf plainly , "But I see that we were mistaken. Thanks to you he almost recovered."

Earlier Rexia would flare up at one thought that someone was evaluating her behind her back and attempting to manage her life, but now she just wasn't capable of spiteful thoughts and feelings.

"Let's say I forgot it."

A smile lit up on his lips and he nodded to her, quite reassured. Having returned a nod Rexia came upstairs.

The first thing that arrested her attention was the emptiness of the chair, in which she used to see Legolas.

The elf himself was standing – tall, slim, with his shoulders proudly straightened. For a moment she was just gazing at him, forgetful to everything but majestic aureole of calm power and nobleness, surrounding his lithe silhouette. Then it suddenly occurred to her what in that scene was so disturbing. Legolas was standing at the window… Looking outside.

Her throat got dry, and she swallowed hard to overcome a wave of panic, which came from nowhere at the thought that now he would look around and see her. What if he … What if he would regret about what happened yesterday? She realized that she had no idea what she would do in this case. How she would live then…

His head slightly turned, and Rexia instinctively started back to the door.

"Rexia?" asked he hesitatingly. She nodded, completely paralyzed, inwardly chanting "Please, please, please", her heart keeping time with this stupid prayer, useless and obsessive.

"Rexia, is that you?" repeated the elf, stepping to her.

"Yes," she could barely force one word through a stone named her breast. _Please… _

Legolas smiled, and Rexia almost sobbed of relief. Eru, a moment ago she was ready to die… Her legs quite against her will carried her to the elf so quickly, as if she flew over the room. The next second she found herself hiding her face in his chest, searching for his protection from the fears similar to the one she got over just a breath ago.

"Where have you been for so long?" asked he, his voice soft and tender. Rexia looked up to say something, anything, and her eyes met his…

He didn't see her. She fathomed it at once. He didn't see.

Sweet Valar…

"What's the matter?" his face became confused and suspicious, "Rexia? Please, say something."

"It's all right," she carefully released herself from his arms to wipe away tears of disappointment, which were going to well up. Who cares, if he wouldn't notice it?

"Are you crying?" he seemed frightened, "My love, why?"

"I thought you don't see me," muttered Rexia uncomprehendingly. Perhaps she had been mistaken and got upset for no reason?

"But I don't," answered Legolas, obviously puzzled, "I mean I can see, but only light spots, like yesterday. I woke up this morning and understood that I can."

She made a deep sign, ordering herself to calm down. Everything fell into place. She just hastened with her conclusions. Everything is going the way it must go. Soon he will recover, not now, but soon. Yet why did she, who must be the most delighted by this, feel disenchantment so deep that she seemed to be cut and bleeding in the very bottom of her being?

"It's wonderful," feigned she, hating herself as she saw his shining smile.

She knew he was waiting that she would embrace him… She sorely wanted to ignore persistent pangs in her heart and give into the temptation to feel the tenderness and ardour of his kiss again. But she couldn't, curse her twisted mind!

She was hurriedly examining the room, seeking for a subject, which was suitable to begin a hollow talk. Her glance fell on a bunch of white flowers, lying on the table in the corner.

"How beautiful…" said she almost sincerely. And they really were - each a fragile star with snowy rays and a drop of crimson inside, bold and eye-catching against the innocent colour of the petals. Rexia absentmindedly moved to the table to stroke these small wonders.

"Do you like them?" murmured Legolas behind the girl, leaning to her so that his breath ghosted against her ear. His arms wound around her, making her recline at him, "They are for you."

"Oh," somehow she got even more upset.

It still felt right to be in his embrace, but the carefree euphoria that filled her soul in the morning evaporated, giving way to uneasiness.

"Legolas!" called Rexia, yielding to a pungent impulse to share her unrest with him, to be soothed, to feel safe again.

"With you," she heard him smile. No, she wouldn't bring herself to do it…

"Thank you for the flowers."

She carefully took a fragrant bouquet and was going to bury her face in it, when her attention was caught by a tiny thing, which had been lying on the table under her flowers. A piece of silvery metal… A ring…

"What's this?" whispered she in surprise, forgetting about the bouquet in her hands. Legolas strained and slowly let her go.

"It's for you, too," his voice was hoarse. He made several steps aside and turned away from her, folding his arms. His cheerfulness vanished, he seemed to be nervous. It was not a good omen. Rexia felt a lump rising in her throat…

"Why?" asked she faint-heartedly.

"I thought I must thank you."

She had a striking sensation of deja-vu. What did she tell him then? _Wait until I finish the cure and then begin to feel grateful… _So that's how he imagines being grateful. A couple of kisses and a jewel…

"You shouldn't have," Rexia put the flowers back, biting her lip. What a shame…

"You don't like it?" Legolas swiftly whipped round, his face pale.

"It's beautiful," muttered she for the second time this day, "But I won't take it. I don't think I must. Flowers are quite enough."

The elf swallowed, looking dismayed and downcast.

"Enough?" echoed he, "Rexia, I don't understand… What's happening?"

"I'm accepting your gratitude. Isn't it what you wanted?"

Legolas impetuously approached her and tried to cup her cheek, but she jerked back.

"I want you to take this ring," said he on note of a plead, "And I crave for your taking one more thing together with it."

His tone was so desperate, that Rexia came to herself and looked at him more closely. Was she missing something?

"And what is it?" asked she quietly, not taking her eyes way from his worried face.

"Me," uttered Legolas simply. She gave a start, astonished, unbelieving…

"What?"

He attempted to touch her once more, and this time she made no resistance. His fingers gingerly slid down her shoulder and weaved around her hand.

"I beg you to let me into your heart and into your life," his words reverberated in her head, depriving her of her will with the intensity of emotion ringing in them, "for my heart and my life always belonged to you. I implore you, my love, don't deny me. Will you…"

"I will," interrupted Rexia in undertones. She had no heart to listen to his question up to the end. It was too sweet and too painful… Legolas took a long heavy breath, as she stood on her tiptoes and placed a careful kiss on a corner of his mouth. His lips moved, responding to her endearment… For a second they were one. Then the elf slightly bent back to whisper a single voiceless phrase, before yielding to her kisses and her touch again. "_Thank you"._

* * *

_A/n:(wiping away a tear )If you think that it's all, you're **terribly** mistaken… _

_Don't be greedy, don't keep your reviews to yourselves. Please? ;o)_

"_Have a nice day!" for you and "Have a nice night!" for me, because as far as I can see when you are reading it I'm peacefully snoring in my bed. _


	12. Of rings and leaves

_Disclaimer: _Rexia is mine. But I won't claim my rights on anything else. Don't own it.

_Author's note: _Fasten your seatbelts. :o)

**Deana:** Hm-m-m…Then I shall make _you_ the main character of my next fic. :o))) A lot of thanks for your reviews. They are wonderful.

**Faerlas: **(have a nasty desire to check it) :o))) Sorry, I know I'm awful. I'm very glad that you still like the story.

**Blackrosemystic:** It's horribly nice to hear (to read). Thank you. :o))) Hope your computer will keep itself in hand in the nearest future, because I promised you a bit of angst and was going to fulfill my promise.

**Chapter twelve. **

_**Of rings and leaves. **_

Did she say the ring was beautiful? What an egregious lie! It was adorable.

A thin band of silver entwined round her finger, teasing at her with muted sparkles of midnight blue stone, fused into the noble metal. The surface of the ring was covered by the thin lace of engraved runes, so curved that it was impossible to read a word they made up. Rexia didn't even try to, treating the engraving just as a complicated pattern of lines. She'll find it out later…

It suited her hand. It seemed to be forged to embellish it. For a moment her mind's eye showed her this hand in another one, masculine and aristocratic… Then – against a pillow next to the face, shaded by the twilight of the outgoing day… The face of the sleeping elf… Of her elf. There was no fault in this picture.

A quiet whistle from the outside stirred her up, and she came up to the window, irritated as a person whose sweetest dream was disturbed because of a trifling life matter. The yard was empty – she was almost ready to believe that it was only her imagination, when two slim figures in elvish cloaks poured out of the shadows of somnolent trees and swiftly moved closer to the house. Having halted right under her window, they exchanged nods and disappeared in the forest as guardedly as they had showed up.

Rexia narrowed her eyes, troubled by what she had seen. They were not sent by Legolas – somehow she was sure of that. The messengers of Legolas wouldn't arrive under cloud of night and leave without making needless noise. These two acted as scouts…

The fact that she grew cold and hurried to close the window not in the least testified to her being scared – or at least that was what she told to herself. They were elves, not orcs. There was no reason for her to feel those drops of icy sweat, slowly rolling down her spine. Besides, they had already left.

In a habitual movement Rexia unhooked a clasp on her collar and came up to the bedside table to return it into the ebony casket, where she kept all her trinkets – several golden chains, several pairs of earrings, a small pendant with a black pearl – her parent's gifts. Being a jeweler's daughter, she attached little significance to their cost. She didn't even wear them, except when some all-important family events were at hand.

It occurred to her that she shouldn't go to bed, having her ring on. She didn't want to spoil its immaculate beauty with even the slightest scratch. To feast her eyes upon the living spangle as much as she could Rexia intentionally opened the casket with her "ringed" hand. But, instead of following the movements of it, her glance through habit fell on the contents of the box. There, on the black velvet, atop the glistening trifles, lay the leaf, which she took off her hair the day before yesterday.

It had withered. Brown spots covered its once delicate skin, changing its bright colour into disgusting umber. Its carved edges became twisted and brittle. Stunned, Rexia shifted her gaze to her hand, only a blink of an eye ago matching this poor fellow in its freshness and clear lines. Then she slowly pulled off the ring and put in on the fallow lifeless body of the leaf, shuddering at the sight. It was awful…

… _summer leaves are beautiful. It's a pity that they are to fall and to wither._

Viper!

The crack, which had splitted her harmonious soul several hours ago, irreparably widened. Her new self, loving and suffering, seemed to get detached from its second half. It knew there was no hope for it to survive…Not after realizing what destiny expected it. Not after seeing its bite-the-dust future. And all the love of the universe was powerless to change that.

It collapsed on the bed and burst out with silent and painful sobs over the smithereens of its short existence.

And the second part of her remained standing at the bedside table, crumpling the innocent leaf. This self was tearless… Frozen… And determined.

And both of them shared one torn heart…

* * *

"To blindfold me?" Legolas was surprised at her sudden idea, "Why?"

"To prevent complications," as always, speaking on the subject of his illness, she settled on official tone, which made him slightly uneasy, "If you regain your sight all at once it might hurt them."

He couldn't tell what in her calm voice disturbed him so much. She was too out-of-body to deceive his intuition, sharpened by ages.

"I don't think it can happen," responded the elf carelessly.

He expected that she would get angry at his refusal, and prepared for a harsh retort. It could set him at ease, meaning that everything was as usual. But instead of that Rexia just stroke his cheek, so tenderly that he grew sick at heart of unconscious and evil presentiment. She didn't behave the way she had to…

"It's just for few days, meleth nin," said she soothingly, "Please… Do it for me. I'm really worried."

He hadn't got used to her gentleness yet, and in front of it appeared to be disarmed.

"As you wish," agreed her with reluctance. Her touch became even more fondling, as she slid her fingers down his neck and took her hand away from him. He bent forward and the thick material of the bandage tightly closed his eyes, almost simultaneously with Rexia's lips, which covered his own ones in a breath-taking kiss.

"Does it feel comfortable?" whispered she against his mouth.

"Oh, yes…"

After all, why was he so suspicious? He was receiving what he desired most – her caress and her love. Eru, for one touch of her lips he was ready to cast aside all his doubts together with the remnants of his reason!

Did you send any guards to me yesterday?" asked she unexpectedly, breaking their unity, her breath a little uneven.

"I didn't…"

He should have thought about it. Though, obviously someone was more attentive than he.

"May be, it was Edwen?" supposed he, having called to mind all the possible variants, "He asked me about you."

At the name of his mother's brother Rexia strained in his arms.

"Did he?" her voice became drawn, "And what did he want to know?"

"He asked about that orc attack," replied Legolas, musing at her growing tension, "What's the matter? Did he offend you?"

"Oh, no." she tried to give her usual short laughter, but it turned out insincere.

Anxiety overwhelmed him again. Something was terribly wrong. She lied to him –he felt it - and it brought him endless pain. She seemed to have estranged herself from him…

"What did you speak about to Edwen?" he wanted to know, seeking for the cause of her behaviour, "You changed after that, calad nin."

"Why do you think, that I had no other reasons to change? You, for example."

She was killing him with this ambiguity. But what could he do? He wasn't able to accuse her of lying, for fear that she would laugh at his doubts and resent them, and even more – that she would confirm his guess.

"Don't get so preoccupied with it," she was smiling again, "It was a trifle talk."

He wished he could believe her. He'd give anything to become gullible and fail to hear that falsity in her answer.

"If you say so…"

"I cannot say anything else, "for a mere second her voice quavered, and she leaned to him, her forehead against his chest."

Legolas carded his shaky fingers through her hair and pressed her against him, madly wanting to read her, to make sure that she was still his. Like a warrior, refusing to confess that his life is leaving him drop by drop through a fatal wound, the elf refused to resign himself to his loosing her, slowly, inevitably…

No, it was only his imagination. She was in his arms, she took his ring, she agreed to share her life with him. He couldn't question her, or it would drive him insane.

"I believe you," said he soundlessly, so that she couldn't hear him. "I believe whatever you say…Till you are with me."


	13. Escape

**Disclaimer: **I think I won't surprise you by saying that I don't own what I don't own. :o)

**Author's note: **Welcome to the next chapter. :o) Thanks for reading it, even if you don't review. Though it would be extremely desirable. :op

**Deana:** Now, I give up. :o)) Just cannot make you wait for so long. ;o)))

**Faerlas:** Stay as enthusiastic as you are now. :o) It's really motivating. (bouncing up and down in my chair in anticipation of your reaction).

**escape5: **Who, me? (making innocent eyes) Never. It's just that we've stepped into a very complicated phase of the story. I try to be careful not to ruin the narration. :o)

**Chapter thirteen.**

_**Escape. **_

Breathe in, breathe out… That's the only thing she remembered doing for these two days. Breathe in, breathe out… Numb and lifeless. Laid-back. Breathe in, breathe out…

Today was the day of burning the bridges. She already stood on the other side of the river, ruefully looking back, but not going to return. She already had a torch in her hand and was carefully bringing it to a rope handrail.

The door opened noiselessly, mounting her up the scaffold.

Breathe in…

* * *

"Congratulations." said she after having hold a hand on his face for a second, "I suppose you have recovered.

"You mean…?"

"You can see now. We can take off the bandage."

Somehow Legolas expected that the news would be more joyous. He thought he would be happier to hear these words. But – it's odd – his heart was empty, as if she had told him that there was no hope to get back his sight. There was only one thing that excited him – the realization that in a moment he would look into his Rexia's eyes. And he didn't even know what colour they were…

"Will you help me with it?" asked he, bowing his head so that it was easy for her to reach the knot.

She didn't make a move.

"Rexia?"

"I'm so sorry," muttered she, "but you must wait for some more minutes. And I must go. I … I didn't expect that it would happen today and promised to make a visit to a patient of mine. I'm truly sorry…"

Her voice was calm and steady. Something inside him broke at her answer. He quickly caught her hands – they were very cold.

"Can't you stay?" entreated the elf in a disappointed tone.

"Unfortunately, not," replied the girl softly, "Take it off without me."

Her fingers slipped out of his grasp…She slowly moved away.

"Calad nin!" it was rather a cry from the heart, a plea to stop, than a call to say good-bye. For reasons unknown his sixth sense was screaming that the moment he would let her go everything would be over. She lingered in the doorway, and he regained his spirit, waiting for her to change her mind, to turn back…

"Good-bye," uttered she quietly.

The world was falling down, and he desperately reached out for her to help him out of the shambles… But all he met was emptiness. She had left him dying.

"You will return, won't you?" whispered he beggarly.

"Why shouldn't I?" she was so tranquil, that Legolas doubted himself, not to be forced to doubt her…

"See you, then," he attempted to assume a witty tone, but Rexia didn't laugh back. She didn't take the trouble to.

"Good-bye," repeated she serenely and closed the door between them.

_Breathe out… _

Legolas winced at the sound… He couldn't believe, she had left him so easily, without a kiss, without a tender word. She went away the moment he needed her most, the moment he expected to share with her…

Blank despair made him rush to the window and give a shout into the darkness, calling for her to look back and at least say something that would assuage his agitation. He would gladly agree to hear another "Good-bye", be it uttered not by that blade of a voice. Her name rang through the air and scattered in the crowns of trees, getting no response…

Legolas made an effort to calm down. She was always a little thorny, wasn't she?

"_She was…" _– hissed a small voice in his mind, - "_And became even more thorny after you sent her home with Edwen" _

If that parvenu was the reason of her coldness… If he only dared insult her with one of his hints, he had once tried to drop in her presence…

He would curse the day he crossed swords with her.

But even this angry outburst didn't reduce the alarm, ruthlessly racking Legolas's body and spirit. He measured the room with several long steps, then swung back and repeated the path, as a caged animal, tossing in its prison.

He quite forgot that in the middle of the room there was his chair, and his next step brought him against this obstacle, trifle in any other circumstances, except those, in which the elf had spent the previous five years.

Panting with sudden pain and annoyance at himself, enraged by this last drop added to the cup of his humiliation and angst, he brusquely raised his hand and tore off the hateful bandage.

Light stroke his unprotected eyes, and he screwed them up, trying to drive back the inceptive tears, which seemed pieces of shattered glass under his eye-lids.

At first everything was blurred, but then the contours of the world began to show through the liquid fog of his unsteady vision more and more clearly. Before he managed to gasp in astonishment, all the shapes and colours of life had appeared in his possession once more.

He was sighted again.

His glance raced around the room, pointing out each small detail, then dashed to the window – in the gorgeous blue skies above the emerald selvage of the forest he made out silhouettes of birds. In a second he was able to count all the feathers in their wings. Everything was like it had been for ages.

The elf tossed his head back and laughed – lightly, carelessly.

However, his elation wasn't long-lasting. It missed something to be perfect.

He missed something…

Eru, let her come back sooner. Let him feel her nearness again.

The elf tiredly ran his hand along his face and sat down, preparing to wait. It wasn't new for him. Several hours make nothing in comparison with all the time he spent here in expectation of her to open the door and brighten up his miserable existence.

His eyes fell on the table, where some days ago he put a bouquet and the ring for her, and he started in disbelief, growing suddenly cold and horrified at what he saw.

A ring.

His ring.

_Her_ ring, mildly sparkling against the rough wooden surface of the table.

It took Legolas not too long to realize what it meant for him.

He sprang up and rushed outside, despairingly hoping that he still had a chance to run her down, and yet knowing that he had lost too much time to have such luck.

* * *

Rexia saw him appear in the window opening. He looked so lost and vulnerable, that she almost gave up. He cried out her name, grief and plea in his clear voice.

…To return, to soothe him, to kiss away the sorrow she knew she was causing…

But she stepped back, her heart writhing and screaming in pain.

"I'm sorry, Legolas," whispered she into nowhere, "I love you."

It seemed to her that the elf guessed about her intentions, because he suddenly darted away from the window. She couldn't let it happen.

Never in her life had she run so fast.

She reached her house in several minutes, ill, breathless…

Only inside the girl allowed herself to lean against the door, close her eyes and feel the tears, cruelly burning her cheeks…

When the drum-like noise in her ears abated, she understood that she was not alone in the room. There was someone else, someone she expected to see less…

"My greetings," rapped out a familiar voice, as Rexia unsuccessfully tried to move back, not thinking about the door behind her, "I think we have something to discuss."


	14. Run for your light

**Disclaimer: **Don't own it. And lazy to explain why. :o)

**Author's note: **I had a free minute and decided to gladden you and myself a little. :o) Thanks everyone, who is reading it. You are wonderful.

**Deana:** You had had Legolas in your house for all this time and hadn't shared with us yet?

:oo (I'm fainting) It's so unfair… Do be more considerate next time. :o)))

**Inwe** **Tasartir:** I'm already hiding in the furthest corner of my room, scared to death by your promises. :o))) Lol. Thank you. :o)

**Faerlas:** It is called "choleric temperament", if psychologists are not mistaken. :o) And I'm rather that of a sanguinic person. I envy your energy. :o)

**HyperSquishy:** Actually, I was waiting for somebody to ask this question at least three chapters ago. :o))) Read and find out. (Hope I'm not too evil).

**Chapter fourteen.**

_**Run for your light… **_

Trees seemed to fly past him, flitting so fast, as if his legs turned into wings. Branches were hitting his face and clutching at his tunic, when he took dives under their tight bows. Grass was moaning, bowing down under his soles, yet he didn't slacken his run.

He must find her. He must stop her… He must make her come back…

He didn't think how. There was only one thing he knew for sure – no sacrifice was too much for him to keep her near. He would give up even his restored vision, if it could bring her back, because without her nothing made sense to him. _He_ didn't make sense.

He would lie at her threshold as a watchdog…

If she wanted him to beg, he would…

Anything for the happiness of touching her hand once more. He would deserve it…

The elf cursed his own thoughtlessness. Why didn't he ask Ralon where they lived? It could save him so much time. Though, when that boy first came instead of the elves from the palace with some trifle message of his father, he himself was too occupied with his woeful state to be interested in the affairs of mortal kids. He befriended Ralon just for want of anything better to do. How could he know that five years later he, the high-born elf, would sell his heart and his soul into the slavery for the sake of the cruel child, who was this youngster's sister?

Streaks of light between crooked trunks grew wider, and Legolas caught sight of the first house. He thought he heard somebody's hurried steps…

In the next minute a tall figure emerged from behind the trees, moving towards him on a neck-breaking speed, which was unlikely inferior to his one. The running – a dark-haired young man, for some reason dressed after the elvish fashion – slowed down his pace and cast a totally wild glance of clear grey eyes at Legolas. His face was pallid - he made an impression of being frightened out of his existence. For a moment the elf believed that the youth intended to tell him something, but the latter, not uttering a single word, darted into the thicket as if chased by the army of balrogs.

Legolas would stop if didn't have similar beasts behind his shoulders.

A mad race brought him into the street, where he had to break into rapid steps. A wide lane between the houses was full of people, each busy with his or her own matters. Some of them turned their heads in the direction of a panting elf, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere, but soon curiosity faded on their faces and they quite forgot about him.

A wrinkled old man bowed a little, passing by him and was going to continue his unhurried pace, when Legolas tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, my good man," hailed he politely, "Where can I find the house of lady Rexia, the healer?"

At the name of Rexia the tattered face beamed up. The old man raised a trembling hand, his finger pointing somewhere down the street.

"Count off seven houses and turn to the right, noble master," cawed he genially, "Yes, count off seven houses… And don't worry, my dear sir, don't worry. That girl works wonders, she does. Dragged me out of the grave, Eru bless her…"

"Eru bless her," echoed Legolas sincerely, "Thank you, old father."

The senile man burst out laughing, his voice hoarse and croaking as a dry cough.

"Making fun of me, noble sir, you are. I dare say in comparison to you I'm young enough to call me "kid"."

Legolas chuckled in spite of himself and quickly followed the indicated road.

Six, seven… That's it!

A pretty two-storeyed house, surrounded by well-groomed trees, stood at the very edge of the town, bordering upon the dark wall of the forest. He flew up the small stairs, which were leading to the front door and strongly knocked at the heavy lacquered desks. There was no answer, and Legolas knocked once more, this time more impatiently.

"Are you in any misfortune, noble master?" an inquisitive voice sounded on his right. The elf whipped round – behind the low fence, separating Rexia's house with the next one, there was a middle-aged woman with a little boy, who was timidly hiding behind her skirt.

"I need to see lady Rexia. Please, where is she?"

"She have went away!" declared the boy unexpectedly. His mother frowned in false deprecation, but it was clear that she was proud of her child's quick-wittedness.

"Away?" asked Legolas in a cheerless tone. He was late. The disappointment, which arose in him at that thought, tasted unbearably bitter. He leaned his elbows on the banisters of a small verandah and squeezed his temples, feeling utterly devastated.

"Are you unwell?" the woman wanted to know, sympathetic notes mixing with hints of curiosity in her question.

"Me?" a lucky idea crossed his mind. This woman seemed to be very well aware of Rexia's affairs. She could have been useful, "Oh, yes. People advised me to come here. I'm afraid she is my last hope…"

He didn't even have to feign despair in his voice.

"I'm so sorry," compassionated the interlocutress, "But, noble master, Rexia doesn't heal elves."

"And what about Prince Legolas?" offered the elf insistently, "I was told she had managed to cure him."

"Bumpkin's gossip!" the woman waved "prince Legolas" aside, as a troublesome fly, "If you asked me, I'd say it was a pretext for her and that prince to see each other. Poor girl just didn't want to be pulled to pieces by our taletellers."

"Do you think there was something between them?" he didn't know why he was wasting time with the garrulous neighbour.

"Rather! It is as clear as daylight!" it was obvious that the woman mounted her hobby-horse, "How else would you call it, if a girl goes about with black looks, and then is seen home in the middle of the night by a good-looking elf, and then stands on the threshold, talking to him and smiling, and then seems eager to shower everybody with kisses…? And the next day comes back with a gorgeous ring on her finger… Forgive me, noble sir, but only a blind man would say that there was nothing between those two!"

Legolas slowly drew himself up, staring at her in disbelief. Her words were nonsense… In the middle of the night? Talking and smiling?

"You must be mistaken, milady," muttered he quietly, "Prince Legolas was really seriously ill."

"Well, that didn't prevent him from coming up here a couple of hours ago and waiting for Rexia… He had the keys, by the way. And now will you persist in persuading me that they are strangers?"

"Waiting for Rexia? You mean that she left with him?" it was suddenly hard to breathe.

"Now that's what I've been trying to tell you for fifteen minutes already!" the woman seemed triumphant, "So if you need the girl, search for her at your Prince's. They went away half an hour ago. And there were several more elves with them."

The elf closed his eyes. The ground was slipping away from under his feet. Lie! Slander - everything, from the first word to the last one!

"How can you be sure that it was him?" his voice was failing him.

The question must have sounded too harsh, because the woman knit her brows and snorted, putting her hands on her hips in an insolent gesture.

"And who else! You know what? You're just too arrogant to believe that your precious dapple-eyed prince can fall in love with a simple girl! And you know, I have news for you - he can! He simply carried her out of the house, like she was made of glass. I wish somebody would treat me with the same care!"

A plaintive child's cry was heard from one of the windows of the neighboring house, and the woman, still seething in the righteous wrath, rushed to the help of her unlucky offspring.

Crushed, thunderstruck Legolas made several uncertain steps and sat down on the stairs, bringing his hands to his face. His eyes were sorely burning, there was a lump in his throat…Rexia and Edwen…

It was too amiss to be true. It was too absurd to be falsehood…

Why didn't he die that day when the orcs came after him?

"Rexia…" whispered he, shrinking as her name slid down his lips, like her lips used to do it. As if she could hear it… As if she could come back at his wretched entreaty… As if!

_Calad_ _nin, why did you do that to me? _

He wanted to scream and howl in pain, like a wounded animal… To plead all the highest powers either to make it all just a nightmare, or to kill him there and then.

He didn't even suspect that something could hurt so much. He wasn't aware that there was abyss deeper and darker than the one he thought he had been saved from. How could he know that all this time he had just been walking on the very edge of it and only now fell into its hungry mouth?

…Jealousy, all-consuming, dreadful, maddening jealousy and sorrow…

She had pitied him then… Not once she had manifested her bent for reckless pity. She played this game until the consequences became intolerable.

And then she just threw him out of her life, erasing everything she had said and done and forgetting him as a thoughtless mistake. Not a sign of regret, not a kiss good-bye. He wouldn't ask for more, he wouldn't dare!

Anything but that indifference.

A tearless sob worked its way up his throat, and he closed his eyes, biting his lips till they bled and feeling nothing but the darkness, which beset him like an impermeable wall. And there was no longer any light, bright enough to chase it away. Not for him…

_Calad_ _nin… _


	15. And how it was

**Disclaimer: **The two interacting characters in this chapter are mine. Anything else is Tolkien's possession.

**Author's note: **So why is it that Rexia has left with the one, she is not very fond of? It's time to find out…

**Faerlas**Poor Edwen. If he were real he would have been lying dead by now. :o)) And I like him so much, even though he is not of a positive kind… It's probably my "author's derangement" acting…

**x-jacqui-x** I'm glad that you found a free minute for me. :o)) Thanks for not forgetting, it's pleasant.

**Legos-r-Hot:**I'm working at it. :o)) As for "Elvish". I've already noticed that, but I have scarcely any time to write and post new chapters now… What can I say about re-posting? Sorry. :o)

And hugs to **Deana **;o), **Inwe Tasartir**, **Escape5**, **Blackrosemystic** (hope your computer is in good health), **Nautica**, **Ara, Goddess of the broken** and **HyperSquishy.**

May your April be merry and careless.

**Chapter fifteen. **

_**How it was.**_

"_My greetings," rapped out a familiar voice, as Rexia unsuccessfully tried to move back, not thinking about the door behind her, "I think we have something to discuss." _

"_I don't know what I can discuss with you," said the girl suspiciously. How did they come here? _

_Except Edwen, who stood just opposite her, there were three more elves in the hall. Two of them were acquainted to her – she saw them the day, when she first met Legolas's uncle. Their faces were severe, but when she tried to meet glances with them, they lowered their eyes. _

"_I would ask you to come with us," Edwen offered her his hand. The elves moved closer, clustering round her… Rexia swallowed, attempting to refrain from trembling. _

"_And what if I say I'm not inclined to go anywhere?" she constrained herself to speak evenly and coolly._

"_Then I'm afraid you'll go against your will."_

_Edwen raised his hand, and between his fingers she saw a small thorn, trickling with something red and foxy. She jerked when he reached out for her neck in a single snake-like movement, but it was too late. The moment the point of the thorn pierced her skin, everything became blurred and wobbly. In the desperate attempt to stay on her feet Rexia made an unseeing step forward and laid hold of the elf's shoulders – it felt like she had clutched at the rock. Her body broke – she was slowly sliding down his chest. The last thing she remembered was his hands, catching her up before she knocked against the floor. And all the lights darkled… _

Rexia was slowly coming to her senses, eager to cry of dull pain, which was throbbing in her head. The left side of her neck was numb – she tried to rub it, but found out that it was hardly possible – her wrists were tied up behind her.

She was offhandedly rested against a cold stone wall. Three more solid walls beetled over her, crowned with a low ceiling. There were no windows; the floor was seemingly bare ground, well-rammed by numerous bodies…

"Welcome back!" drawled a mocking voice above her. The girl looked up, knowing beforehand whom she would see there.

A crystal lamp in his hands was spilling dim silvery light over the dungeon. His face, indistinct in the twilights, was haughty and exultant.

She attempted to brave an answer, but instead of it suffocated with coughing. Edwen's smile grew wider…

"Don't try in vain," advised he good-naturedly, "Unless you prefer speaking in whisper. I had to make sure that you won't be able to cry or sing."

She opened wide her eyes in complete astonishment. Sing? Under this circumstances? Was she making an impression of being insane?

Her surprise must have been so obvious, that the elf clenched his teeth suddenly crossly. No signs of mirth remained in him. He became icy and undoubtedly cruel.

She had never seen such elves before. He reminded of a storm cloud, blazing with spears of lightnings. He reminded of a whip, whistling in the air before falling down on the unsheltered skin.

"Don't pretend you didn't understand," hissed he, "It's unwise of you to play with me."

"What do you want from me?" croaked Rexia – each word caused unbearable pain in her throat, which seemed to be powdered with sand.

"This and that," he was calming down, "there are many things one may want from a Vala…"

If she thought she was surprised when he supposed that she would sing, she was sorely mistaken. _Now_ she was simply stunned.

"A Vala?" whispered she, "Are you not in you right mind? I'm not a Vala!"

His laughter testified that she wasn't very persuasive.

"Now, now," uttered Edwen soothingly, "Don't you think it's no use pretending when you're exposed?"

"Exposed!" exclaimed the girl, which caused another fit of coughing.

Edwen waved his hand - one of the elves, who were silently standing by his sides, handed him a small flask. The dapple-eyed knelt down near Rexia and brought the neck of it to her lips.

"Go out," dropped he to the guards, "Milady and I need to have a private talk."

The elves quietly obeyed.

"Now," said Edwen, sitting down on the floor and smiling, "We'll make a deal. You can help me, and I can help you. So let's be friends."

"Do you always tie up your friends and throw them into a stone sack?" inquired she sarcastically.

"Just small precautions," chucked he, "I'll untie you the moment we get on with each other."

She began to suspect something. It was beyond belief, but… He didn't think that she was the object of their search, did he?

"You're mistaken, do you know that?" asked she impassively, "Wasn't it you who told me that to be a healer doesn't mean to be a Vala? And what has become of your assurance that your aim is a man?"

"Even Valar can be wrong," responded Edwen, his wide sable brows curved in scorn, "But you had been extremely good in disguising yourself. If not for your healing that simpleton, my nephew, nobody would ever suspect you."

"I see nothing special in it," said Rexia calmly.

She was tired of all that nonsense. She grew almost indifferent to everything. It was as if she was reading a strange story with no beginning, a story so intricate, that it annoyed her. To close the book shut – that's what she wanted.

"Very well," the elf conceded to her protest with eases, "Then what about the orcs? Do you really believe that they came after Legolas? Won't you tell me what had you been doing before they appeared?"

"Talking to Legolas."

"And?" his voice rose a little, a shade of invitation tingeing the common enquiry.

And? She considered for a moment, and the right answer dawned upon her in all its bareness and irrefutability.

"Singing…," she breathed out, "I was singing."

"_You had three arrows in your quiver_," chanted Edwen in a hushed tone, "Rather an aggressive song, don't you think so? They heard your aggression. They perceived your anger. They craved for it. And they came after you."

"It's not true," but her objection was not as confident as it had been before.

Edwen smiled slightly and touched her damp forehead, removing glued locks from her skin.

"It is, milady. And since for now I'm the only one who knows, I have an offer for you. I will tell no one, you can rely on me. But you… You will help me to get rid of King Thranduil."

"What?" muttered Rexia, thinking that she misheard something.

"You will make everything to kill him. You're able to, and you don't even have to see him in person. After that we'll find somebody to substitute you."

"What do you mean "to substitute"?" frowned Rexia.

The elf leaned closer, so that his lips were barely a breath away from her ear.

"I shall call this person the Vala, whom we are looking for. I shall proclaim him to be evil. We shall kill him and go back to Valinor. And you will be free as a bird. I'm not interested in your further life."

"And what is your profit?" she wondered at her own tranquility. Her head was spinning – she wanted to lie down, fall asleep and never wake up.

"Thranduil will be dead. I will be the king of elves, for our poor blind Legolas cannot be counted on. As far as I can see you are not going back to him, are you? Though if you desire I can leave him here. Consider it a sign of my thankfulness."

Undue merriment bubbled up inside her and she burst out laughing, unable to stop, though she was trying hard to keep herself in hand. Edwen uncomprehendingly glared at her.

"Oh, Eru… Poor Legolas!" she blurted out through the hysterical tears, rolling down her cheeks, "May you know, "The king of elves", that poor Legolas got sighted three days ago! You are too late… What a pity…"

The elf sprang to his feet, his fair features distorted with ire.

"You've trapped yourself," he spat out, "If you refuse, I shall kill you and no one will doubt me. For your reputation as a healer may be good, but your reputation as a person is much worse…"

A dagger gleamed in his hand – Rexia looked into his flaring eyes, realizing that her tune had been played up to the end. She wasn't afraid. She was exhausted…

A sudden burst of sound shook the dungeon. It came from the outside, making the walls and the ground tremble. A voice, deep and loud, cutting through the air, thundering, deafening… A voice, singing a song of deliverance, and justice, and forgiveness.

The door swing open and let inside bright beams of sun together with a tall, proudly-looking elf in rich regal clothes. She immediately recognized his haughty bearing, though it was only once she saw him. King Thranduil…

And behind the king towered a black silhouette of the one, who was singing. The silhouette, which looked so familiar…

Another stream of sounds covered her with a warm blanket, and she plunged into the blissful shadows of a swoon again.


	16. I never thought it was you

**Disclaimer: **I don't own "Lord of the Rings". I guess that explains everything else.

**Author's note:** Thanks everyone who is reading. :o) Smiles and kisses to all who reviewed. Here is another "chain" chapter. Sorry if it's not very eventful, but one needs to stay logical when it comes to untying the knots one made.

**Deana:** I thought you had left me… (sniffs) I was doing my best. :o)))

**Faerlas: **M-m-m, that would be too obvious. :o)) And too soon. And too good for Legolas. (By the way, should your name be translated from Sindarin, Drowish or Hen Llinge? I found equivalents in all these languages.)

**Rennjenn: **My applause. :o)) May I ask when you guessed about it? And – thank you for your review.

**x-jacqui-x: **I'm afraid Edwen is not very nutritious. :o)) Besides, he is important for the further development of events. We don't want it to finish right in this chapter, do we?

**xerena: **Wow. :o) Sure. As you wish. Here you are. Thanks. :o)

**Chapter sixteen.**

_**Never thought it was you.**_

"Wake up, sleepyhead!"

"Out of my room…" mumbled she through her nose and pulled a blanket on her head. Darkness was so cozy, so somnolent… Somebody dragged back a splendid piece of it, leaving her face bare again.

She felt soft lips on her forehead. The girl lifted the eye-lashes a little to decide, whether the one who was disturbing her deserved to be killed or forgiven, and made out a figure of her brother, dark against the golden torrent, flowing from the window of her room.

"Ralon…" smiled she, as he sat down on the edge of her bed and wrinkled his nose at her, just the way he did it when she was ten years old.

She was on the verge of telling him what an awful dream she had seen, when the last picture of it floated to the surface of her mind's vision, leaving her speechless. The same broad shoulders, the same height… The same black figure was imprinted in the bright door opening behind the majestic silhouette of the King of Mirkwood…

"Ralon?" repeated Rexia with distrust, "You? It was you?"

"It was me," agreed her brother calmly, "It had always been me, my little one."

Somehow she stopped doubting herself as soon as he spoke. He changed so much… His face lost its usual expression of naivety and capitation, she had used to see on it. Now it was the face of an easy-tempered, reserved and endlessly wise creature with deep, a bit sarcastic eyes and a serene line of the lips. He looked older, much older…But he still was her brother, now may be even closer to the one, she had needed him to be. She chuckled at her slow-wittedness.

"Why are you laughing?" asked Ralon, yet she saw that he was rather pleased with it than vexed.

"I was silly, wasn't I?" stated she, smiling an ironical smile, "Thinking myself so smart…"

"You were just too busy, love. And it's my fault."

"It wasn't you to make me a healer, brother," to her surprise he grew serious and looked down with a strange guilty air, "What's the matter?"

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," said he barely audibly, getting darker at her mistrust, "The thing is that your gift should have been mine. And it had been mine up to that day at the river. Remember it?"

Rexia nodded, still unbelieving. Her brother leaned against the backrest of the bed, staring into the empty air.

"You know, you should have never been brought into the world. I was to be the only child. I was to be taken to Valinor. I knew it and I hated it. I was lonely, and I think my loneliness was so great that I quite against my will used my power to make you born. Your birth caused certain changes in the line of fate, the result of which was my coming with you to the river. This body," he nodded at himself, "is imperfect. I understood what had happened when my soul was already leaving it. I had to do something, so I delivered a part of my abilities to you – enough to bring my body to life. I thought I would take it back."

"So why didn't you?" she wanted to know, trying to ignore a small shadow of resentment at finding out that she was not as important as she believed. And it didn't matter how much she herself disliked her talent.

"Those people didn't allow me to," Ralon shrugged his shoulders, "They had recognized you as a healer and I understood that I had no way back. I'm so very guilty before you. That burden was not yours."

Rexia frowned, remembering all the years she had spent in running round like a squirrel in a cage, tossing from one sick man to another. It filled her with odd pride and jealousy. She had never failed. She had stood it.

"I did well," uttered she obstinately, "You shouldn't feel sorry for me."

Ralon lit up, but immediately got gloomy again.

"Then I must show you one more thing," he stretched his hand out for her, "Take a look."

She touched his fingertips and the walls around her shrank, having covered with leaves. It was dim… The cold wind was lashing against her face. She peeped out of the trees, among which she was standing. She was doleful… She was angry…

…Her eyes caught sight of a lonely elf, aimlessly walking along the wrinkled mirror of the lake. She hated this elf, all the elves. It was their fault she had to live in the shadows… It was their fault she had to leave all she loved. Be they all cursed!

A knot of rage within her had grown so tight, that she wanted to scream and crush everything. The bark was peeling off under her nails… And then her mind exploded and she ceased existing…

…Rexia was gaping for air, unable to get rid of the image she saw last – a squirmed, broken body of that unlucky elf, his hair of or, soaking in blood from fresh wounds on the immaculate pale skin… And his sky-blue eyes, growing overcast with a dim shroud. For five years ahead…

"Legolas…" sobbed she, her heart tearing apart with pity and helplessness. Had she only known… A pain of parting renewed. It scorched even more to feel that she had left him alone, she, who had hoped to keep him safe for the rest of her life. She had betrayed him…

She felt Ralon embrace her, his hands stroking her loose hair.

"Don't cry, darling," whispered he, "It is all in the past. Now, look around."

Rexia turned her tear-stained face off his warm shoulder and opened wide her eyes. The room smothered in flowers, which she hadn't noticed before. Her bedside table was cluttered with fruits.

"Where did it come from?" asked she, wiping her eye-lashes, which stuck together from tears.

"Well, those ones," Ralon pointed at the bunch of sharply purple spheres, "are from king Thranduil. With his apologies and his gratitude for healing his son."

She winced a little, but braved a crooked smile. Her brother seemed not to notice her reluctance to elaborate on the subject, because he went on happily, showing her sweet-scented tufts, one after the other.

"Those lilies are from such a very tall elf. He insists on being acquainted with you. And this is from Edwen. With protestations that he regrets about his actions…"

"I wouldn't believe a word he says," interrupted Rexia angrily, "Throw them away."

"As you wish, darling," agreed Ralon with an evil smirk, "But you know, after I had a talk with him, he would regret even his having drowned Numenor. And he would be absolutely sincere."

"Oh please, Ralon, how can you be sure?" growled she, for a second casting aside the fact, that he wasn't the one to be reproached anymore.

His grin curved in a malicious manner, imparting the tinge of wicked irony to his face.

"Because he remembers almost nothing," drawled Ralon, perfectly mocking the voice of Legolas's uncle, "It's convenient for everyone. I'd tear him into pieces with great pleasure, but I'm not in the position to be cruel."

She arched a brow at his statement.

"Does it mean that you have already done something of the kind?" inquired she acidly. He nodded and suddenly burst out laughing.

"Tell me, sister, what would you do if a simple troublesome boy, who had been constantly getting underfoot and staring at you with his mouth always open, ran up to you and told you that he was the divine creature you had been looking for years?"

"Turn you out of the house," answered Rexia unhesitatingly.

"King tried to do the same," Ralon cast a dreamy glance at the ceiling, "And now, I'm afraid, a part of his house doesn't look as refined as it had looked before. I was in a hurry, you know…"

In spite of her low mood the girl couldn't help but smirk, having imagined the face of king Thranduil in that moment. "_Rowdy",_ muttered she under her nose.

"I'll ask you one thing," said her brother, still smiling, "Don't tell Legolas I caused his blindness, all right? Or I won't live to see Valinor."

Valinor… How could she forget? How could she be so happy, when it was over?

The book was read up to the end. Now, they will leave, both of them. She was losing her brother, whom she had never known properly… She was losing her love, whom she had just found… And it was her fault.

"Don't worry," her voice was a hoarse whisper, "I won't talk to Legolas again."

"Oh!" suddenly exclaimed Ralon, as if he had passes off her words, "I almost forgot. I have a present for you, too."

He felt in his pocket and took out something brown and creased.

"I've found it here. Thought you will be upset to lose it."

"I don't understand why didn't you throw it away," said she, having a mere look at the withered leaf, laying on his palm. **_That_** leaf… Her lips were trembling with insult and sadness, though she was bravely endeavoring to keep a straight face. She couldn't believe Ralon was able to mock at her so cruelly.

"To throw away?" echoed Ralon, "Are you sure? Have a better look at it."

In the blink of an eye the leaf got smoothed out. Deep green colour filled its dry veins. Its blameless contours restored. Rexia was gazing at it, dizzy with astonishment. Then she reached out weakly and clutched it between her fingers – it was as fresh and beautiful as the day when she pulled it out of her locks. Ralon covered her hand with his and brought it to his lips.

"What a Vala am I, if I cannon make happy my own sister?" teased he softly, "Now rise and chant. They are waiting for us in the palace of Mirkwood."


	17. Making promises

**Disclaimer: **I disclaim. :o)

**Author's note: **Eru, that was really a Holiday! The whole week of holidays, to be exact. I love birthdays! (rolling myself into a ball and purring) Thanks for your reviews. Thanks for being patient. Just thanks. :o)

**Deana: **Thank you, thank you, thank you. :o))) It's a pity I couldn't share my cake with you. It was three-storeyed and ve-r-r-ry tasty.

**Faerlas:** Full of surprises, aren't you? Do you, by chance, have any theoretical material on your language? I'd very much like to see it, if you don't mind, of course. I'm a language-maniac. :o))) My e-mail is posted on my profile-page.

**Rennjenn:** :o))) Well, that's exactly I hoped somebody would think. "_If in the beginning of the play there is a gun hanging on the wall, in the end of the play it will shoot."_ It's pleasant that you paid attention to it. :o)

**Chapter seventeen.**

_**Making promises…**_

The thicket was full of hushed whispering and subdued melodious laughter. Everyone was happy. Everyone anticipated the greatest event of the last hundred years. The elves were eager to hail the new Vala, because his arrival meant that soon they all would leave for the blessed land and meet their kinsfolk not to part with those they loved again. And there was only one elf who found no joy in everyone's exultation.

The dark foliage - inlaid with the heavy drops of dew, exhaling sweet midsummer smell - didn't gladden him.

The walls of the palace didn't shelter him anymore.

He was burnt out to ashes.

He was neither surprised at the unexpected end of their mission, nor hurt that it was fulfilled without his help. And though his face kept a seemly official and concerned expression, while he was standing at the gates of the palace with his father and all the others, who were waiting for the promised half-god, his mind was as empty as his halted heart.

He felt somebody's hand on his shoulder, but didn't look back.

"Are you well, Legolas?"

"Quite," responded he shortly. Indeed, his father chose a strange moment to inquire about his state.

"If you are not, I shall meet them myself," suggested the King of Mirkwood, "You may go."

The younger elf slowly shook his head, watching the sparkles of first torches, glimpsing in the depth of the forest.

"I shall stay here. I wouldn't like to miss them," said he blankly, but suddenly knit his brows, "Them? I thought there's only one man…"

"His family is going with him," explained his father, coming closer not to raise his voice, because the murmur among the impatient elves was growing louder and louder.

"They won't endure the way," still, was it the affair of his?

The King tried to urge his homagers to calm down. His gestures, however, didn't show particular austerity.

"He said he had given them immortality," dropped he, his tone strikingly casual for such a statement.

"Do you think it's wise of him to waste powers without even reaching Valinor?"

"He seems to be mighty enough. In any case it's beyond my abilities to dissuade him from it. He is …," the elf paused, for some reason throwing a discontented glance at the palace, "He is a very wayward young man."

The torches between the trees were getting closer. Many assumed a dignified air, and Legolas inwardly jeered at this assentation. He began to regret his refusal to leave.

The bluish-grey locks appeared in the first row of the crowd. His heart willfully skipped a bit and his eyes against his wish turned there, searching, begging… But there were no human features among the glowing impeccability of the sea of elven faces.

Why was he still indulging himself in hopeless desires? It was over.

"There's one more term of his coming with us," said the King for no apparent reason.

"What kind of term?" asked Legolas with utter indifference.

"He is afraid he won't be able to take care of his family there. He wants us to do it."

The Prince of Mirkwood shrugged his shoulders.

"It's not so hard," stated he, continuously staring at Edwen, who looked curiously lost.

"He is not sure of that. He wants them to be treated fittingly to what they deserve to his own notion. He offers to relate our families."

"And how does he imagine such a relation?" wondered Legolas with a hint of interest.

"He decided that to marry off his sister to someone of the royal blood is the best way to do it," replied king Thranduil matter-of-factly, "You are the supposed candidate."

Legolas turned round, blushing with anger and remonstrance.

"No!" snapped he, his fists clenched so tightly that the bones in his fingers crunched, "Absolutely not!"

"Calm down," ordered the older elf, at the same time putting on his best regal smile and nodding to somebody behind the prince, "If you are so much against it, though I see no reasons for you denial, let it be Edwen. He had always been ambitious. This marriage will suit him. And now show your face to our guests, please."

His son unseeingly obeyed. Edwen? Edwen will marry this unknown girl?

For a second a vicious thought disfigured his lips with a wry smirk, a thought which seemed to give him wings. If it was really so, then his uncle was as far from getting Rexia as he himself. She would never belong to him!

But… She loved Edwen. It would make her suffer. She didn't deserve that. He wouldn't let himself cause a single tear of hers. He couldn't bring her the same pain, he was coming through.

Legolas raised his chin and forced himself to look at the elves, who stood with their heads bowed, holding their hands to their hearts, as four human figures were moving up to him along the living gallery. Two youngsters and two middle-aged people…

He had expected that the Vala would be much as a common mortal, but still couldn't help but surprise at the harmlessly-looking young man with broad shoulders and short, slightly dishevelled hair. The man was somehow familiar to Legolas… Yes, it was the same boy he met yesterday, chasing Rexia. Now it became clear, to where he was heading in such a hurried manner…

The Vala smiled at him, showing perfectly white teeth, and leaned to tell something to the young woman by his side. Unconscious, Legolas followed his movement…

She was not tall, though seemed well-set. Her face was that of what was called pellucid. Clear-cut features, high cheek-bones, dark brows, fair skin… A blank page, where one could draw anything. While it remained white and untouched, it was a picture to look at and not to remember. Her ashy hair was carefully braided, obviously by the elves.

Their gazes crossed and she quickly dropped her eyelashes, but not quickly enough for him not to notice a gauzy shadow of triumph, looming in the dark-grey eyes. So she knew how high she was to fly from now on…

"When are you going to hold the marriage ceremony?" he would do it for Rexia, since there was nothing else she needed from him.

"Right now," his father barely moved his lips, because their … guest came up too close to continue the conversation, "Everything is ready."

"I agree," said Legolas resolutely.

Without a word the King went forward and exchanged civil bows with the young man and his family.

"Hail the great Vala!" proclaimed he solemnly, "And hail the bride of Prince Legolas!"

The crowd burst out with happy cheers and incomprehensible outcries, as Legolas stepped up and offered his hand to the grey-eyed girl.

"Hail the new Princess!" he declared, his voice threatening to break, "Suilo Aranel!"


	18. Stop falling

**Disclaimer: **You know everything. :o)

**Author's note: **Enjoy it.

**Rennjenn:** And this comes from the one, who uses the word "penchant"! Why don't you simply say "propensity"? Lol… :o)))

**Faerlas: **In fact, these "illogically constructed words, and a childs handful of "grammar" rules" was what I meant under "theoretical materials". :o) And again – why should I cringe? That sounds pretty good and I'm still very interested in your work. :o)) It's not everyday that one meets somebody who invented a language.

**Deana:** :o))))

**Tatiana: **Pretty thanks.

**Elvnchic9:**Well, actually the bride **_is_** Rexia. :o)) So, I guess you are right, he is going to get back with her. :o)))

**Chapter eighteen.**

_**Stop falling**. _

It all seemed to be happening in a slow weird dream. Voices echoed in her head, indiscernible like they sounded from under water. Before she knew it she was in front of Legolas, who was looking through her, as if she was made of glass. He was perfectly calm.

… and there was an elegant wreath of silver in her trembling hands, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to put it on the head of the elven Prince, because he didn't take pains to lean at least a little.

A smaller wreath, gemmed with sapphires, appeared from nowhere. Legolas carefully crowned her, holding it with his fingertips only, removing his hands earlier than she managed to feel them. Then he bent forward and kissed her, his lips those of a complete stranger. Cold, impersonal touch…

Tongues of mist twisted with the rays of scant sun, cloaking her in the lightly sparkling, foggy net.

The King was saying something in melodious Sindarin, yet she saw nothing but those cool blue eyes and heard nothing but her rapid heartbeat…

…and she was walking along the shadowy passage, hand in hand with the one she loved. With the one who now avoided her glance, being unaware of whose fingers were clutched in his.

The door shut behind them. In the same second Legolas released her and moved away, his figure dissolving in the warm half-darkness of the large room. Rexia remained standing, and doubts were gradually creeping in to wash away her previous determination.

May be it was not such a good idea after all…

It hurt her that he agreed to bind himself to an unknown girl so easily, without any apparent hesitation. It was as if she had stopped existing for him. Out of sight, out of mind… If it could have been said about her, whom he had never even seen.

Yet, what else did she expect after her foul escape?

She undeniably made a mistake, letting Ralon talk her into this. She had no right to come back and act like nothing had happened. Forcing Legolas to marry her blindly, leaving him no choice…

Compelling him to accept her without having ascertained that he was still able to love her… The deed of a coward. Now, sick of the ringing silence of the room, she understood it too well.

The elf stirred and looked back at her.

"Would you sit down?" asked he politely, pointing at the comfortably-looking armchair near the bed, which was canopied with waves of soft green silk. Rexia involuntary blushed and immediately got angry at herself for this weakness. To hide her foolish disarray she nodded, wending to the offered sitting.

The crown pressed her temples – she took it off and paused, not knowing what she should do next. A smile ghosted over Legolas's face.

"Let me take it," said he, approaching Rexia.

She timidly held the crown out for him. His fingers stroke hers in a casual movement – before she knew what she was doing, she caught his hand, squeezing it so tightly that he cast her astonished glance. For a heartbeat they were immobile. Then Legolas pulled back, as if her touch had burnt him.

"I'm sorry…," muttered he, whirling back, "I'd better leave… Forgive me."

Three steps separated him with the door. Rexia sprang up, feverishly thinking about something to say, and feeling inappropriately dumb. She had three elvish steps to stop him.

Two… One…

"How did it happen?" asked she in a shaky voice. His back flinched and he came to a halt.

"I beg the pardon?" whispered he hoarsely.

"How did you become blind?"

The elf turned round, slowly, like every movement caused him pain. His eyes were stormy with mixed emotions – surprise, unbelief, doubt, and something else, sharp and fiery, something she couldn't recognize.

"Rexia?"

* * *

She barely nodded, though it didn't matter for him already. His mind was reeling. In several mad steps he covered the distance between them and folded her in his arms, crushing his eager mouth against her lips, wincing of bitter delight, when she yielded to his fervent caress. He was drinking her smell off her skin, breaking only to whisper her name, which tasted for his tongue as sweet and airy as her kisses.

For a second she managed to escape his lips.

"Forgive me," murmured she, trying to make him listen.

Forgive? For what? Legolas had already nodded assent and leaned to her again, when the memories rushed back to him. He gave a start. _Forgive me…_ She probably spoke about Edwen. How could he forget? Oh, Eru…

He had just married her…

He wanted to make her able to be with Edwen, but instead of that bound her with this wedding. Oh, Eru…

"It was a mistake," said he out-loud. What must she think about him?

"A mistake?" Rexia raised her brows.

"I shouldn't have married you," confessed the elf, "I didn't want to marry you. I didn't know it was you!"

What was he saying? He must have gone crazy to tell such things to his only love. She was deadly pale, her grey eyes almost coaly against this whiteness.

"Do you wish me to leave?" her voice was no more than a breath.

"I do," forced he, blood shooting in his ears.

But when she moved away, his determination shattered. It was more than he could bear. He wasn't able to be strong and generous anymore.

"Rexia, no!" he caught her hand and pressed it against his chest, his heart seemed to cling to her small palm, "Please, stay! I'm nothing without you, calad nin… I know there's Edwen… I didn't want to impede you, but please… If you want me to be like him I will, just stay…"

Rexia frowned, bringing her free hand to cup his cheek.

"What are you talking about?" inquired she uncomprehendingly, "Legolas, I love you. There is no one but you, and there never was."

"But… Your neighbour…," he halted, realizing what she had just said. I love you. She uttered these words for the first time.

"Eru, she always concocts something," Rexia sniffed scornfully, "Don't tell me you believed her jabber… So that's why you didn't come to the dungeon, when your father and Ralon…"

She suddenly cut off and blushed deep red.

"To the dungeon?" echoed Legolas, "Valar, how could I fail to see it! I'll kill him…"

"Just forget about him, all right?" she smiled at him. It was a sweet smile, soft and tangibly tender, revealing two small dimples on her chiselled cheeks.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," he brought her to his chest and kissed her temple.

She looked up at him and he got lost in her glance, her every feature engraving itself on his heart. He was whole – again. Now and forever.

"I'm too human for you," stated she a little shyly.

"You are perfect, calad nin," whispered Legolas, "But if you doubt in my eyes, blindfold me again. Just promise you won't forsake me after that."

"Never," said she seriously.

He rested his chin on the top of her head, smiling at the feeling of her smooth hair against his skin.

"Rexia…"

"Mm-m-m?"

"Tell me you love me again," asked he hushfully, "Please."

The girl in his arms chuckled and rose herself a bit, her lips teasingly close to his.

"I'd better try and prove that," purred she as he stared in her sparkling eyes, finding it hard to breathe of the keen perception of her nearness and his own kindling love and desire, "You don't mind, do you?"

**THE END… **

* * *

_A/n: Well, that is all. I want to thank all my readers for staying with me, and all my reviewers for their support and their cheering comments. Now – a line of special thanks and then some notes on our future. (I hope so) :o) _

_Thanks to Deana, whose reviews I knew would be the first ones in my mailbox when I checked it. :o) _

_Thanks to Inwe Tasartir, who made me feel like Galsworthy of writing fics. :o) _

_Thanks to Blackrosemystic, who bravely fought with her computer to send a couple of lines. :o)_

_Thanks to X-jacqui-x for being always kind and thoughtful. :o)_

_Thanks to Faerlas for the inspiring enthusiasm and energy. :o) _

_Thanks to Escape5 for the stylish comments. :o) _

_Thanks to Nautica for understanding and letting me know that I have at least one more reader. :o) _

_Thanks to Ara, Goddess of the broken for a single, but a big praise. :o) _

_Thanks to HyperSquishy for being interested in the plot twists. :o)_

_Thanks to Rennjenn for the keen observation and pleasant reviews. :o)_

_Thanks to Legos-r-Hot. It feels nice to be praised. :o) _

_Thanks to Xerena for being impatient for the continuation. :o) _

_Thanks to Tatiana, since, I guess, we are countrygirls. :o)_

_Thanks to Elvnchic9 for her anxiety about Rexia. :o)_

_So, if there are any comments, ideas, questions, calls for help – my e-mail is always working for you. I'll be more than glad to be useful. Now I'm thinking over another fic, but it's still very vague. I guess I'll try to make something out of it. Good luck to you all! It was a real pleasure to write for you._

Adamanta. :o)


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